


(just let me love you) when your heart is tired

by twentybiqueen



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Friends to Lovers, Gun Violence, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, M/M, Miscarriage mention, Mpreg, Original Male Character Pairing for Harry, Original Male Character Pairing for Louis, Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:54:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 28,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23074315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twentybiqueen/pseuds/twentybiqueen
Summary: “Anyway, what’s up? It seemed like you had something important you wanted to talk about.”Harry nodded and looked directly at Louis. “Look, Lou, I’ll just come right out with it.” Louis stiffened, taking in Harry’s serious tone. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me you were going to get engaged?”Louis stared at him, his mouth falling open. “That’s what you wanted to talk about?”Harry shrugged. “Well, yeah. I thought you might have told me before you were gonna do it.”Louis frowned. “I’m sorry, Harry, I didn’t think I needed to.”Anger swirled in Harry’s belly. “Why wouldn’t you tell me something like that? Genuinely, Louis, we’ve been friends for five years. For fuck’s sake, wouldn’t you want to know if I was about to get engaged?”That stopped Louis in his tracks. He froze, like he’d been punched.or the one where harry and louis are best friends in san francisco, louis gets engaged and doesn't tell harry, harry is making a documentary, niall and shawn are secretly dating and liam meets zayn at a bar.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Niall Horan/Shawn Mendes, Zayn Malik/Liam Payne
Comments: 7
Kudos: 44





	1. december 2017  —  january 2018

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe it's finally here! This has been over two years in the making! I want to thank everyone who helped me get to this point and everyone who believed in me even when this story idea was just bouncing around in my head. 
> 
> The most gigantic thank you to @peterpanlouie for being the best beta I could ever ask for and getting just as excited as I do about my story. You have made this so much fun and so much more possible. 
> 
> Thank you to @sunflowrsix for helping me beta too and making me an edit and listening to me rant about my story. You are so greatly appreciated. 
> 
> The title is inspired by the song Tired by Alan Walker.
> 
> And thank you to anyone to who is reading! It means so much!

**_just let me love you, when your heart is tired_ **

**December 2017**

* * *

The store was alight with noise—people picking out gifts for loved ones, parents corralling their children back by their sides, couples shopping together for their holiday presents. The department store was no stranger to last-minute holiday shopping. With only six days to go until Christmas, the unorganized, far-too-busy or just plain unlucky all found themselves in the same congregation, fighting it out for the last pair of mittens on display. 

Harry held two ties up, comparing them side by side. One, black with blue stripes, the other navy with white stripes. They were fairly mundane and yet he could still not decide which he disliked _less_. Ties weren’t his thing. 

“Having trouble there?”

Harry turned around, laughing. “Yes. Help me?” He handed both over to him, sighing in relief. 

Louis proffered the black with blue stripes to Harry. “Yeah?” he asked. Louis nodded. 

“Okay, it’s done then. Your present has been picked.”

“You’re the worst Secret Santa ever, you know that?”

Harry shoved Louis’ arm. “Oh come on! At least you’re getting what you want, right? It’s better than the set of dictionaries I was going to get you before.”

Louis rolled his eyes as they stepped into the mile-long line. “You’re seriously the worst at this.” 

“I am not!" Harry protested. 

They pressed forward in the line slowly, people-watching as they went. Louis leaned in to hiss in Harry's ear, “Five o’clock. Beardy with the shirts.”

Harry glanced to his right, where a bearded man dressed in bright red overalls without a shirt underneath was casually searching the menswear selection. Harry covered his mouth with his hand to keep from drawing attention. 

“Wish I could get away with a look like that.”

“You could. And you’d pull it off, too,” Louis said. 

They kept inching closer to the registers in the ever-growing line of shoppers, continuing their favorite game: people-watching and making up stories about them. Harry pointed out a woman with a tight bun and a phone pressed to her ear. “I simply do not have time for this Christmas shopping! Why didn’t I have my personal assistant do it?” Harry assumed a higher pitched voice, poking fun at the brunette. “Get me Armani.”

“Haz, come on.”

He looked away from watching her struggle to balance a three-piece suit in her arms while on the phone at Louis. “What?”

“She’s not Meryl Streep from _The Devil Wears Prada_ ,” Louis scolded. 

Harry squinted at him in confusion; only moments before he had narrated a man shifting side to side as if he was going to wet his pants. 

“She’s Sarah Jessica Parker from _The Family Stone_.”

Harry laughed out loud, nudging Louis in the side with his elbow. They always had fun together no matter where they were. Once, they’d spent an entire afternoon compiling spreadsheets and coincidentally, that was the first time Harry had ever shot a beverage through his nose. Louis subsequently choked on his own. 

“So what are you getting _me_?” Harry asked when they were two customers away from the register. 

“What?”

“What are you getting me for Christmas?”

Louis looked at him sideways. “You’re not who I pulled for Secret Santa,” he said slowly, as if trying to explain physics to a five-year old. 

Harry smirked. “Right, okay.”

“You aren’t.”

“Okay, Louis.”

“Why don’t you believe me? You’re going to make me feel guilty for not pulling your name.”

Harry touched his hand to his chest, feigning innocence. “I would never.”

Louis rolled his eyes again. “Harry.” He sighed out his name, making it sound like a prayer to the heavens rather than a synonym for his person. 

“Well, you can still get me something even if you aren’t my Secret Santa. There’s no rule against it.”

Louis brushed his hand against a display rack of earrings. “Yes, I could. Remember that Christmas you knitted me a sock?” he asked. Harry did remember. He had just taken a knitting class and was practicing, but it was taking forever and he ran out of time before Christmas Day, so he gave him the one sock he did finish. He promised him he would give him the other one when it was completed. “You never did finish the other sock. So now anytime I wear it my other foot gets jealous.”

By this time they had made it to the front of the line. Harry set the tie down on the counter, laughing as he pulled out his wallet. 

“Did you find everything you needed?” The cashier asked, glancing at them over a pair of black-rimmed spectacles. His name tag said George.

Harry looked at Louis, smiling. “Yes, we did. Thank you.”

He scanned the tie Harry had picked for Louis, or rather, that Louis had picked for himself, then folded it neatly and placed it in a box. “You two are a cute couple,” George said, peering at them over the top of his glasses.

Harry opened his mouth to tell him that they were not a couple, actually. That they were just friends, albeit very good friends. But Louis beat him to the punch. 

“We’re just friends. But thank you.”

The cashier’s expression was one of skepticism as he handed Harry his receipt. “Oh. Sorry. Well, happy holidays.”

Harry tucked his receipt into his back pocket, turning to walk away from the register. “You, too.”

Louis grabbed the tie box off the counter for Harry as they made their way through the crowded store. Louis grasped Harry's wrist when a big crowd appeared, almost separating them. As he pulled him along, Harry pondered the sheer number of people they were surrounded by. It was hard to imagine that they even lived in a city with this many people. 

When they emerged onto the street, Harry breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Are you going back to the office?” Louis asked, putting the hand that wasn’t holding the box in his pocket. 

Harry checked his watch. “No, I think I need to go home and finish packing.”

“Okay,” Louis said. He stuck his hand out into the street, hailing the nearest cab that would stop. “Take this one home. I’ll probably head back and get a bit more done.”

Harry thanked him, sliding into the backseat of the car and giving the driver his address. Louis leaned into the back window, holding out the box. “Don’t forget this. Whoever it’s meant for might be really disappointed if he doesn’t get it, since it’ll go with the shirt he’s wearing tomorrow.”

Grinning at him, Harry waved as the cab peeled away from the curb, merging into the city traffic. 

  
  


The next morning, Harry was completely exhausted. He arrived at the office ten minutes before eight o’clock, taking a seat at his cubicle. He powered his computer on through drooping eyes, shuffling some papers he had left on his desk the day before. Things were only half-finished, which made him feel even more tired, knowing he had to get everything done before he left for his flight. 

Co-workers arrived in handfuls until it was a quarter past. He became so engrossed in finalizing spreadsheets that he failed to realize Louis wasn’t at his desk across from him. He looked around for the first time since sitting down, mentally taking roll. Everyone was there except Louis. 

Harry had just decided to call him when he walked through the door wearing, sure enough, a blue shirt that exactly matched the tie he had bought him. With his hair slightly windswept and his jacket clutched in one hand, he quickly made his way over. 

Harry looked at him over the top of his computer. “Sleep late?” 

He met his gaze hesitantly. “Couldn’t get a cab.”

“Because you slept late,” Harry said as a statement of fact, because he knew it was. 

He sighed in response, setting his things down. They worked in silence for a long while; the sounds of their work became a rhythm, tapping on computer keys, making phone calls. Harry got up from his computer after two hours to stretch his legs and use the restroom. 

When he walked into the men’s room two of his co-workers, Niall and Shawn, stood talking at the sinks in hushed tones. They stopped when he walked in, so he smiled and went into the closest stall. He saw their feet shuffle out of the bathroom door under the stall. 

When he returned, he walked directly over to Louis’s desk. He perched on the edge of it, waiting for him to look up from his work. 

“Harry, I’m right in the middle of this.”

He peeked at Louis’s screen. He had the results of a football game up, rather than the order forms he had previously been working on. 

“Yeah, looks like you’re super busy. You think they’ll make it to the playoffs?”

He responded absentmindedly, not realizing that he had caught him. “Yeah I do—” He cut himself off when he processed Harry's words and sighed. “Okay, okay. What’s up?”

Harry smiled and leaned in closer to his ear. “Niall and Shawn were whispering in the bathroom again.”

“Do you think they’re, you know, a thing now?” Louis asked under his breath.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. They stopped talking as soon as I came in. I think if they are a thing, they aren’t going to tell anyone. Especially not me.”

Louis nodded. “Yes, if they were an item, they would not tell you. They might tell _me_ , though.”

Harry swatted his arm. “Hey, why would they tell you?”

“Because I’m trustworthy and easy to talk to,” he said as though it was obvious. 

Harry ignored his comment because he saw Shawn walk back into the room without Niall. He sat down in his chair with his eyes trained ahead, trying his best to appear nonchalant. Without so much as a breath he went back to work. “It just kind of sucks, you know?”

“What does?” Louis asked, having moved on to checking the game stats again. 

“The company policy. I get that interoffice relationships can be tricky for companies as a liability issue, but there are ways around it. They don’t have to be banned.”

Louis looked up at Harry, his eyes tinged with thoughtfulness. 

“All I’m saying is that it sucks that people have to hide their relationships because HR is worried about it affecting productivity, or whatever.” He nodded as Harry spoke. Harry knew he was thinking of Mick, his boyfriend. He had worked at their company for a few months. The company’s policy made it impossible for them to date openly and keep their jobs, so Mick decided to leave and look for another job. 

“How are you guys, by the way?”

Louis smiled down at his hands. “Good. We’re moving in together. We just decided.”

“Louis! That’s fantastic!” Harry grasped his shoulder and squeezed, his mouth spread into a wide grin. “I’m so happy for you!” Louis blushed, his gaze still on his hands, so Harry patted his shoulder and walked back to his desk. 

  
  


The office Christmas party was in full swing. Everyone was dressed up in festive sweaters, drinking punch and watching a select few participate in the games. Most were playing pin-the-tail on the reindeer but failing miserably. 

Harry had begun to feel nauseous at the thought of boarding a plane in a few hours and none of the food looked at all appealing, so he held a cup of sparkling water in his hands when Louis walked up beside him. 

“No pin-the-tail?” Louis asked, sipping on some punch from the snack table. Louis had always been braver than Harry when it came to beverages. Harry was still traumatized by the time Niall had given him a spiked punch instead of regular. 

Harry shook his head. “Nah. Keith and Niall are doing a fine job on their own.” Harry gestured to where the blindfolded Niall was heading directly for Shawn’s unsuspecting backside. 

Louis swallowed. “Mm. Indeed.”

Harry felt his stomach turn over itself, but whether it was from the nausea or the secret gift for Louis he had burning a hole in his pocket, he couldn’t tell. He tried to keep his voice even when he set his cup down on the table behind him and turned to Louis. “Hey, come with me across the hall for a sec?”

Louis looked suspicious. “Why?”

“I need you to take a look at something,” Harry said, praying Louis would stop asking questions and just follow him. He took a couple steps toward the door, glancing over his shoulder. Louis groaned and jogged after him. 

“What are we doing?” Louis asked as he tried to keep up with Harry. He was walking too fast, but he was too excited to slow down. “And would you wait? For fuck’s sake.” 

Harry stopped at the end of the hall and waited, tapping his foot on the ground with impatience. Louis caught up, a slight glare in his eyes as he drew level with Harry. “Well?” 

Harry opened the door and gestured for Louis to walk in. “After you.”

Louis tossed him a skeptical glance and went through the door, Harry following close behind. They were standing in the empty room across the hall from their office with the huge window that overlooked the San Francisco Bay. The space was meant to become a new, bigger conference room for the company, but it got tied up in legal disputes with the landlord and the project stalled. With its bare walls and paint cans in the corners, it was hard to imagine it as any place other than Louis and Harry’s. 

They’d started taking their lunches there when they realized no one else ever used it. Sometimes they went on an especially stressful day and just messed around, making paper airplanes or reading work emails out loud and making fun of them. But the best part was the view. It was hard to feel down about anything when they looked at that view. 

Louis stopped in front of the window, admiring it for a minute. Then he looked at Harry. “So, what did you need to show me?”

Harry pulled the wrapped object from his pocket and placed it in Louis’ hand, grinning. 

Louis looked at the snowflake wrapping paper with surprise. 

“Happy birthday, Louis.”

Louis’ eyes lit up with joy. “Haz, you didn’t have to—”

“Just open it,” Harry said, struggling not to fidget in anticipation. Louis smiled up at him and then tore off the snowflake paper. 

It was a deck of cards with holes punched on the left-hand side and tied with ribbon to hold it together. On the middle of the front cover it said **_24 Things About You_ ** in green lettering. 

“Harry...what is this?”

“It’s just,” Harry cleared his throat. “I know you don’t always see yourself how I see you. I just wanted you to know. Okay?”

Louis looked speechless, which didn’t happen very often. His eyes were misty and he kept glancing between the book and Harry. “Come here.” Harry said, pulling him into a hug. He rubbed Louis’ back, and he smelled like he always did, detergent and that specific face cream he insisted on using. It was comforting. 

Harry let him go and Louis composed himself, swiping at his eyes. “Thank you, Harry.”

Harry smiled, relief washing through him because he knew Louis genuinely liked it. The anxiety of worrying over his birthday gift for the last month disappeared into the air. “You’re welcome.”

Harry opened the door again and Louis followed him out, holding the gift tightly in his hand. When they walked back into the party, Harry walked over and picked his sparkling water back up. He watched as Louis made his way to the tree in the corner of the room, placing another gift, wrapped neatly, underneath. Harry barely had time to wonder who it was meant for before his watch beeped. If he was going to make his flight, he had to leave. 

He crossed to his desk, gathering his coat and bag. Clicking off his computer, he half-wished he didn’t have to fly home to Washington and could stay to enjoy the rest of the party with his co-workers. But his plane ticket was booked and it was too late to cancel. 

“I’m off. Double Christmas awaits,” Harry said to Louis, giving him a light hug goodbye. 

“Travel safe, see you soon. Don’t party too hard.”

“Merry Christmas, Lou.”

He lifted his glass of punch. “Merry Christmas, Harry.”

“Oh!” Harry said, remembering. “I almost forgot to give you this.” He dug in his bag for his gift wrapped in red paper and tied with a green bow. “I hope you like it.”

“I know I will.”

The nauseous feeling had doubled down by the time Harry made it through security. He hadn’t eaten anything all day, but wasn’t sure he could manage it with the knots in his stomach. 

He boarded the plane with the pit still lodged in his abdomen, stowing his carry-on overhead. Sitting down in the confining seat that would be his for the next two hours, he sighed. He checked his phone one more time before he powered it off. He answered a text from his mom asking what time he would land in Seattle, then scrolled to see that Louis sent him a picture wearing his new tie. 

**told you it would match well :)**

The captain came over the speaker asking everyone to turn off their phones, so he clicked the power button and zipped it back into his bag. He felt a wave of dizziness overtake him, sweeping him under its current. Harry figured it was because he hadn’t eaten much and stayed up so late. He decided to close his eyes for a minute. 

When Harry opened his eyes, people were walking by him slowly, taking their bags from the bins. Slightly shocked that he had slept through the entire flight, he sat and rubbed his eyes. When it was his turn he exited his row, took his bag and left the plane, fighting another wave of dizziness. 

The Seattle airport was thick with travelers—coming and going. As he weaved his way through the onslaught of people, he wondered vaguely what his Christmas would look like if his parents were still together. Maybe they would have kept the tradition of picking out their tree in the tree lot and decorating it as a family. Maybe they would have made peppermint hot chocolate. But then again, probably and possibly more realistically, it would have been yet another holiday ruined by the tension and animosity between them. 

Neither would exactly tell him what happened between them. As far as he knew, one day they were married and the next they weren’t. Of course, Harry wasn’t stupid and was keenly aware that they were having problems. Walls are only so thick. 

His mom moved to a different suburb in Seattle. She told him on the phone last week that she loved it. There was a hiking trail near her and the new school at which she taught was very welcoming. She was teaching second grade this year. 

His dad was still living in his childhood home near the University of Washington. He missed his old room in that house with the bay window. His job hadn’t changed, not much had for him, so it seemed. They didn’t talk as much as they used to when Harry first moved, and when they did it was mostly about when Harry would move back. Harry never voiced to him that just would not happen. His life was in San Francisco now. 

As he made his way out into the cool Seattle air, he looked around for his dad’s Prius. He honked the horn lightly when he emerged onto the street, pulling closer to the curb. He got out of the car and wrapped his arms around Harry tightly. 

“Hi, honey!”

Harry hugged his dad back with equal force. “Hi Dad. Merry Christmas.” He tried not to think about the last time he’d seen his dad. When his parents were in the middle of their divorce, he had accused Harry of siding with his mom. Of choosing her over him.

His dad let go of him so he could get a good look at him. “How are you? Good? You look a little pale.”

Harry shrugged off his concern even as beads of cold sweat formed at his hairline. “I think it’s just from having been on a plane. You know how it is.”

His dad took his suitcase and put it in the trunk for Harry, starting to tell him about his plans for the weekend. He would be with him until the twenty-fourth, then he’d go to his mom’s and stay with her for the end of Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. “I thought we’d go to the tree lot and pick out a tree. I haven’t done it yet because it’s been so busy at the office. Plus, I figured you’d want to help me.”

Harry smiled at him. “That sounds great, Dad.” The Seattle landscape washed over him like the opening credits of a movie he’d watched over and over again. At times, he undeniably missed Washington and his family. 

“So, catch me up. What’s new with you?” His father initiated his usual interrogation. In the most loving way, of course. 

He sighed, thinking it over. “Well, work is good.” 

“What exactly are you doing again?”

This was always the case; no matter how many times he explained something, he would inevitably tell him again. “I’m working for a media production company. They partner with bigger companies like YouTube or Universal to create content.”

“Oh, right, right. How long have you been doing that now?”

“A year and a half.”

His dad shook his head. “Wow, time flies. Seems like you were just graduating from college. Can’t believe it’s been two years.”

Harry nodded in agreement. In some ways it felt like yesterday. In others, college felt like a lifetime ago. “So what’s up with you?” Harry asked, changing the subject. 

His dad paused as he crossed an intersection. “Oh, not much. The office has been a little more chaotic recently with a couple transfers. I’m the most senior accountant at our branch now.”

“Really? Is that more work for you?” Was that why he barely ever called Harry?

“Some. It’s not bad, though.”

They kept driving, merging onto the freeway. Harry could see the Space Needle in the distance. “How’s your friend? Louis?”

Harry's mind snapped back to reality. He was surprised he had asked about Louis. “Louis? He’s good. He’s dating this guy, Mick. He’s really nice and they’re going to move in together.”

“Wow. That’s soon. Didn’t you say they’ve been dating for six months?”

Harry tried to remember when he had mentioned it. “Seven, now. But it seems like they’re ready.”

His dad shook his head. “I don’t know. It just seems like you kids are rushing into these adult relationships. Trying to hurry up and get to the finish line.”

Harry didn’t know what to say. He certainly wasn’t ready to cross any finish line. He didn’t know why his dad was acting so conservative about moving in with a partner. His parents had gotten married within months of knowing each other. Then again, maybe that’s why his dad was down on the idea.

“Are you dating?”

Harry held in a sigh. He didn’t want to talk about his dating life with his dad. He knew he meant well, but he always seemed to find something to criticize about his boyfriends. “A little. I’ve been seeing this guy Ezra for a few weeks.”

His dad hummed in interest. Lucky for Harry, they pulled into his driveway at that moment. They brought his stuff into the house in one trip. Harry stood in the entry for a second, taking in the familiar smell of his dad’s house. It smelled like home—wood and cinnamon. 

“I’ll get you a cup of tea.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Harry answered as he made his way up the stairs. His feet walked without his help, taking the steps two by two that led to his childhood bedroom. When he opened the door it look more or less the same. His bed was neatly made, blue bedspread tucked into the corners. He set his bags down by the dresser. 

Harry sat down in his desk chair, feeling the effects of the travel on his system. The pit in his stomach had doubled in size, it seemed. He looked around the room he’d spent so many hours in as he was growing up and wondered why it felt so strange to be in it. 

  
  


“Which one do you like?”

“I like big ones. With lots of full branches,” Harry called back to his dad, who was across the aisle from him. They were trying to pick a tree. They’d been at it forty minutes. 

“I know, Harry. I’m your father.”

“You sure?” he teased. 

“Shut up.”

Harry laughed, moving down the aisle. He was surrounded by dozens of Christmas trees, all waiting to be chosen. His hands brushed against their needles gently. 

He stopped in front of the one at the end. It was exactly what he was looking for. 

“Do you remember the Christmas I brought you here when you were four? We drove over a spike in the parking lot and the tire popped.” His dad came up beside him, his gaze on the tree. “It was raining and you kept saying you were scared because I got out of the car to change the tire.”

Vaguely, a memory surfaced from the far reaches of his mind. He recalled sitting in the backseat of their Jeep, watching to make sure his dad was still out there. 

“We finally picked a tree and brought it home, but since it was so wet from the rain I left it on the porch. When I brought it in in the morning…”

“Worms started crawling out,” Harry finished, grinning from the story. Harry could laugh about it now, but at the time he probably screamed. His mom vowed they would never have a real tree in the house again. Yet, sure enough, the next Christmas they returned to the tree lot. 

His dad seemed to come to the same conclusion of the story as he had judging by the cloudy look in his eyes. He cleared his throat. Harry turned back to the tree, touching the branches closest to him. “So?”

“So?”

“This one?”

“Al! We’ll take this one!” His father called out to the nearest tree salesman, who jogged over to help them pack it up. Harry helped Al and his dad bundle the tree’s branches, tying them together so they’d fit on the roof of the car. As he stooped over, tying the netting over it, he felt another wave of dizziness overcome him. He stood up, hoping it would pass. 

“Dad, I’ll be right back.” Harry walked toward the office building, his breath coming faster. He walked into the bathroom and locked the door behind him, leaning his forearms on the sink. He stayed like that for a few minutes, waiting for it to subside. When it finally did, he splashed his face with water and walked back to the tree lot. 

Al and his dad were just finishing loading up the tree. He stood watching them hoist the bundled mass of evergreen onto the roof. He felt like he was four again, watching his dad change their tire in the storm. 

When he climbed into the car and turned the heat on, he heard a crunch underneath him. He shifted, pulling out two candy canes. His brow pinched together as his dad shut the driver’s side door. 

“What’re these for?” he asked. 

His dad scoffed at him. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.”

It came back to Harry in a rush; the last time it was just he and his dad picking out a tree, five years before. He nodded. “I haven’t.”

“Hook it,” his dad said, asking him to hook his candy cane around his. His smile fell when he saw Harry's crushed cane. “What happened?”

He handed Harry his, taking his broken one instead. “Merry Christmas, son.”

“Merry Christmas, Dad.”

  
  


Two days later, he was packed up again and headed to his mom’s house in an Uber. It was too weird for his dad to drop him off and would have been oddly reminiscent of his childhood play-dates. He also got the sense his parents weren’t speaking much these days. 

His dad was sad to see him go, especially on his birthday. Harry could tell he was tempted to ask him to stay, but knew he wouldn’t be able to accept. He was already caught between them enough as it was. 

Harry watched the scenery change from the streets surrounding the University of Washington to a suburban neighborhood. The grey sky made the houses look bright and festive. Most had lights strung up on their eaves. Some had blow-up reindeer on their lawns, too, which almost made Harry wish he’d gotten one for his apartment back in San Francisco. 

He got out of the car in front of his mom’s new house. It was a quaint pale yellow one-story. She had put a wreath on her front door and hung a few ornaments from the porch, just as she had done when Harry was a kid. He grabbed his bags from the backseat, bidding goodbye to his driver. 

“Harry!” He heard his mom’s voice ring out in the cold wind. He turned to see her hurrying toward him with her arms outstretched. He laughed, abandoning his belongings to be swept up in her embrace. He had missed her so much and not fully felt it until this moment. He fought the tears that threatened to spill onto his cheeks. 

“Oh, honey, I’m so happy to see you,” she said, cupping his face in her hands. “Come on, let’s go inside. It’s cold.” She grabbed one of his bags and he took the other, following her into the house. 

Once inside he surveyed her new place. The first thing that struck him was how so very _Mom_ it was. She was and always had been a minimalist and her house was no exception; she didn’t like clutter, it had enough color to give light to the rooms, and it was impeccably neat. He could always tell when his mom had been in his bedroom growing up because she left a trail of vacuum tracks. 

She had an artificial tree in the corner of her living room, studded with decorative flowers instead of ornaments. He smiled, struck by the reality that she was moving on with her life, starting with her Christmas decorations. 

“I love the tree, Mom,” he said. 

“Do you?”

He nodded. “Yeah. It makes me happy.”

She broke into a wide grin. “Me too, honey. Okay, I made dinner in the crockpot. Are you hungry?”

His stomach twisted in response, but he told her yes. He didn’t want to refuse her. “What did you make?” he asked, following her into the kitchen. 

“Brisket with carrots and potatoes. I think it’ll be really good. I added cinnamon,” she said, pulling two plates out of the cupboard and sitting down at the table. They fell into conversation easily as they ate. He told her about life in San Francisco, as it was today. She knew most of it already but she enjoyed hearing about it anyway.

“Do you like your job?” she asked, spearing a carrot. 

Harry thought for a second. “Yeah. I mean, I’m still low on the totem pole. I want to work up to a higher position in the future, but for now, it’s fine. Plus, I get to work closely with Louis where I am now.”

“That’s right, Louis. I forgot he was working with you. How is he?”

She hadn’t forgotten. “He’s good. Really good.”

“I’m so glad you have a friend like him out there, sweetie. It makes me feel better, not being there myself.”

He laughed, putting his fork down. “I don’t doubt that if you didn’t love Washington so much, San Francisco would be your first stop.”

“Damn right,” his mother said, smirking back at him. 

He was happy to be so at ease with his mom. He didn’t say a word about his dad and neither did she. It seemed to be the only thing they couldn’t talk about. 

  
  


“Mom!”

Harry sat up in bed suddenly out of a fitful sleep. He didn’t know why he called out to his mother or what was wrong; he just knew something was. Then pain ripped through his abdomen and he struggled to the bathroom before getting sick into the toilet. 

He heard his bedroom door open and his mother stood silhouetted by the light in the hallway she had hastily flipped on. “Harry? Did you call me?”

He had sunk to the floor of the bathroom, but he tried to get to his feet. He only managed to prop himself on his knees. He turned on the light switch without fully standing up. “Yes, I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Anne walked to the bathroom door. “Did you get sick?”

He nodded, wiping the corners of his mouth. 

“Oh my God! Harry!” His mother practically shouted, scaring him. 

“What?” he asked from the floor, his heartbeat picking up in speed, almost like it knew what she was going to say before he did. 

“Honey, you’re bleeding!” she said, pointing to where he had been sitting a moment before. There was blood smeared on the ground in front of the bathtub. He put his hand on his backside; his fingers came away sticky and red. 

His mom rushed to his side, trying to get him to his feet. 

  
  


The emergency room was bright and loud. Anne was at Harry's elbow, helping him walk inside. He wasn’t entirely sure he needed her to, but he let her. He was scared. 

“My son is bleeding heavily and needs to see a doctor,” she said once they had reached the reception desk. He wanted to sit down because the pain was worse when he stood up. He felt like he needed to double over or throw up, but he forced himself to stay on his feet. 

The woman at the desk asked his mother questions he didn’t hear and didn’t care about. The next hour passed in a haze, until they were taken from the waiting room to a trauma room. His mom pushed him in a wheelchair because he could no longer stand. 

The nurses poked and prodded Harry and asked him questions that were difficult to answer with the pain he was in. His mom held his hand, her face knitted with worry. 

“Harry, I’m going to have you sit up a little bit, okay?” The nearest nurse spoke to him in a soft tone, putting her hand on his shoulder. He gasped out as he tried to bring his body to a sitting position. 

“It’s okay, honey. I’m just going to take a quick blood sample.” She strapped a blue rubber band around his bicep, wiping the crook of his elbow and inserting the needle. Her hands moved expertly, as though this was her art. It probably was, actually. “Harry, when did the bleeding start?”

Harry unclenched his jaw. “I-I’m not sure exactly.”

The nurse nodded. “Okay. Have you been feeling sick?”

He thought about it for a minute. “Yes. For a few days, actually.”

His mother looked at him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He shrugged. “I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

The nurse squeezed his hand as she undid the rubber band. “We’ll have some news for you very soon. In the meantime, get some rest.” She left the room, carrying the vial of his blood with her. He was desperate to know what it would tell her. 

Harry sighed, laying his head back on the pillow and staring at the ceiling. His mother fussed around him, tucking in the blankets around his legs and arranging the wires and tubes around him for optimal comfort. He grabbed her hand, and she stopped and set her gaze on him. 

Her eyes were full of an emotion he couldn’t be certain of. She looked at the door. “I’m going to call your dad.”

He tried to sit up again and thought the better of it. “What? Why?”

“I think he should be here,” she said, taking her phone from her purse. 

She opened the door gently and slipped into the hall. Harry put his hands over his eyes, wishing he could lower the fluorescent lighting in his room. He wanted this night to be over. 

  
  


The next thing he became aware of was his parents whispering to one another in the corner of the room. He didn’t open his eyes so that they wouldn’t know he had swum back into consciousness. He didn’t remember falling asleep. 

“...did the nurse say?” He heard his father’s voice, low and strained. 

“I don’t know. She hasn’t come back with the test results yet because he’s been asleep for the last hour. I don’t want to wake him up, he’s so tired.”

“Why didn’t you call me sooner? I could have come right away or gone with you guys to the emergency room.”

“He was panicking and in a lot of pain. There wasn’t a lot of time to do anything except get him here,” his mother replied, her tone turning defensive. 

“I’m sorry, Anne. I’m not criticizing you, it's just that I _just_ spent the weekend with him. He seemed okay to me. Did I miss it?”

Harry moved in the bed, hoping to stop their conversation. Guilt settled around him; the last thing he wanted was to ruin his parents’ Christmas. They both turned toward him as he opened his eyes. 

“Dad?” he said groggily. “When did you get here?”

He came over to Harry's side of the bed. “A few minutes ago. Harry, I wish you would have told me you weren’t feeling well.”

“It wasn’t that big of a deal, Dad, honestly. I didn’t think I was sick. I had just been feeling a little weird.”

His dad started saying something else—probably to scold him for ignoring it—when the nurse from earlier poked her head in the room. His mother ushered her into the room, walking to the other side of his bed and taking his hand. 

“Okay, Harry, we’ve got your blood results back. Is this your father?”

“Yes,” he answered. 

“Okay, well, Mom and Dad, I am going to go over Harry's results with him.”

His dad caught on and nodded awkwardly, turning toward the door. “I’ll be downstairs if you guys need me.” He left before Harry could say a word to the contrary. 

“Are you comfortable with me sharing the information with both of you?” The nurse asked Harry and his mother. 

“Yes,” Harry said. 

“Alright. Harry, based on the blood panel we received we believe you are experiencing a miscarriage. We won’t be able to confirm it until we perform a pelvic exam and ultrasound, however. Do you know how far along you are?”

He felt the color drain from his face as he stared at the nurse. His hands went clammy, his heart rate pulsed in his ears. “Um...I…” he tried to stammer a response. 

His mom took one look at his face, in which her shock was mirrored he was certain. “Harry, did you...know?”

He managed to shake his head in response. “I’m sorry, he didn’t know?” Understanding dawned on the nurse’s features and she looked at Harry with even more sympathy than before. 

“Oh my God…” he said out loud, his mind racing. Everything suddenly made sense, and for a mere millisecond, he felt elated. Until he remembered that the nurse said he might be miscarrying. 

The nurse asked him a series of questions to get an understanding about how far along he may have been. She left to collect the ultrasound equipment, leaving him and his mother alone. 

A deafening silence engulfed the room for several seconds. He didn’t think either of them knew what to say. He could hardly look his mother in the eye. 

“I’m so sorry, Harry,” his mom said. 

He raised his gaze to meet hers. “What? Why?”

“I so wished you would never have to go through this,” she said. 

He said nothing for a moment. “You knew I was pregnant, didn’t you? Before we got to the hospital?”

She stared at him only the way a mother can look into her child’s face and read his soul like the back of her hand. “I was pretty sure.” The nurse came back into the room. His mom squeezed his hand. 

“Do you want me to leave?”

He shook his head emphatically. “No. Please stay.”

She nodded. “Okay.”

  
  


The sun was just peeking over the horizon as they pulled into the driveway of his mother’s house. He sat in the passenger seat staring out of the window for a minute. 

“Come on, Harry. Let’s go inside.” His mom undid her seat-belt and helped Harry out of the car and into the house. She told him to sit down on the couch while she made him something to drink. 

The last ten hours flitted through his head in a strange parade of images. 

Someone knocked on the front door and since his mom was busy, he got up to answer it. His dad looked taken aback when Harry let him in. 

“Oh, Harry. You should sit down.”

He sighed. “Yeah. So I’ve been told.” He had been given plenty of instructions at the hospital and would be extending his visit a couple days to give him time to recuperate. He was expected to experience pain and bleeding for a few more days. 

They both sat down on the couch wordlessly, not even looking at one another. He didn’t know what to say to his father. 

“Oh, Des. I didn’t know you were here.” His mom came back into the room carrying something that was steaming. She handed it to him carefully. He looked into the cup and noted that it was her homemade hot chocolate. 

“I just arrived.” his dad said. 

His mom sat down on Harry's other side, asking his dad about the drive over. He said it was light traffic because it was a holiday. Harry took a sip of the drink. His parents continued talking without attempting to pull him into their conversation, which he appreciated, because he had nothing to contribute. 

For a minute, it almost felt like nothing had happened. Like they were still married and Harry hadn’t left Washington. Like they were still one cohesive family. 

“Merry Christmas,” he said, interjecting in the middle of his dad’s sentence. 

Both of them stopped and watched him for a second. And then almost simultaneously, they smiled and leaned in to hug him. 

“Merry Christmas.”

**January 2018**

* * *

Louis was oblivious to the effects of Harry's laser stare. At least, he was pretending to be, because his eyes hadn’t left his computer for thirty minutes. He knew this for a fact, because his hadn’t left Louis’. 

Harry's fingers moved quickly across his keyboard, typing the words he trusted to be there without looking. He had opened an IM chat twenty-eight minutes ago. He procrastinated until finally giving up that Louis would notice him. 

**do you have time for coffee?**

He heard Louis’ computer notify him of his question. Louis’s brow stayed furrowed as he switched his window from one of spreadsheets to his message. His eyes grazed over the message before he lifted his head at last. 

“Now?” he mouthed over the cubicle barrier between them. 

Harry's fingers hit three keystrokes. 

**yes**

Louis read the message and clicked a button on his computer. The chat disappeared from his screen. Louis stood up and pushed back his chair, picking up his coat and walking toward the door. 

Harry smiled, closing all his windows and following him. 

They walked down the block chatting. Harry asked him how his Christmas was and he shrugged noncommittally. 

“Fine. It was quiet.”

He gave him a sidelong glance. “Quiet? You have three siblings. How did you manage that?”

Louis scuffed his shoe against the sidewalk. “Oh, I didn’t go home this year. I stayed in the city, hung out with a couple buddies. I had a lot to do the day before and after, so,” he shrugged again. He changed the subject. “How was yours?”

It was Harry's turn to shift uncomfortably. “Oh, uh, good.”

“Just good?”

“Mhmm. You know, two holidays, two separate visits. Gets a little tedious.”

Louis nodded, though Harry got the feeling he wasn’t listening. “Where do you want to get coffee?”

“The cafe on the corner has good beans,” he answered.

“You’re a total coffee snob,” Louis quipped. 

“I own my coffee snobbery,” Harry said back. 

Louis laughed at his comeback. As they rounded the corner they almost ran into a young brunette woman pushing a stroller. Her small child inside was curled up asleep with her thumb in her mouth. They paused to apologize to each other for the near head-on collision. 

“I’m sorry, we didn’t see you,” Louis said. 

The woman waved her hand. “It’s okay. I didn’t see you either.”

Louis peeked at the sleeping baby. “How old?”

“Six months,” the mother answered. 

Harry turned away from the conversation, covering his mouth to contain the suppressed sobs threatening to escape his body. He put his hand on a lamppost to steady his weight against it. 

He heard the mother continue on her way behind him and a few seconds later Louis noticed his absence. 

“Harry?”

He removed his hand but tears were streaming down his face. It wasn’t exactly subtle. Louis rushed over to his side, his face contorted in worry. “Harry...why are you crying?”

Harry tried to say something, anything, to push away his concern, but he could only cry harder. He fought for breath so he could say something but nothing came out. 

“Jesus, okay. Come with me,” he said, taking his arm and leading him into the nearest open establishment on the street. He couldn’t help but continue crying, leaning on Louis as they walked. Louis pushed him down into a booth and walked off somewhere. Harry turned with bleary vision to grab a napkin from the dispenser and wipe his face. 

Louis sat down across from him and pushed a cup of hot water across the table. He said nothing for a few minutes while Harry sniffled and took a few sips from the cup. 

“Why does everyone offer me beverages when I’m sad lately?”

Louis cocked his head to the side. “How often have you been sad lately?”

Harry looked down, his eyes welling again. 

“Harry,” his tone shifted. “You don’t have to, but you can tell me what’s wrong. If you want.”

Harry put his elbow on the table and rested his hand against his mouth, looking out the window. The whole week he spent in Washington flashed across his eyes. He could still see the look on his mom’s face when the nurse told them. 

“I was pregnant,” he said, hardly above a whisper.

Louis waited a beat. “What?” 

Harry turned so he was staring into his eyes. They persuaded him to say it again. “I was pregnant,” he began shakily. “And I miscarried on Christmas Eve. I was seven weeks. I didn’t even know…” he trailed off, tears carving tracks down his cheeks. He hadn’t cried since finding out so he was unsure why he was breaking down in the middle of a workday. 

“Oh my God,” Louis said. “Harry, I’m—I’m so sorry.” He reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “Are you okay?”

Harry choked out a laugh, gesturing to his face. “Do I look okay?”

He faltered. “I know-I’m sure you’re not-I mean-” He took a breath, steadying himself. “I just meant, do you need anything? Are you okay physically?”

Harry nodded. “As much as possible. They cleared me for my normal routine but no physical activity for a little while.” He paused. “I mean, they told me in the hospital that they thought I was having a miscarriage and for one stupid second, I was _excited_ thinking I could be pregnant. I’m not even ready to have a baby. So I don’t get why...it hurts so much.”

Louis fiddled with a napkin. “I don’t want to pretend to understand what you’re going through. Because well...I can’t. But my mom had a miscarriage when I was eleven. She never really actually told me what happened but I kind of figured it out. And she was really sad for a while. Even though she told me later on that with me and my sisters and brother she couldn’t have handled having another baby, she still felt like a piece of her had been taken away,” Louis trained his eyes on the table. “I’m probably not helping.”

Harry sniffed again. “No, you are,” he sort of laughed. “I mean, not much is helping me but talking about it and knowing I’m not totally alone? That’s helping.”

Louis nodded thoughtfully. “God, Harry, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not okay yet, but I appreciate it.”

He tapped his fingers on the table absentmindedly. “Can I ask you something?” Louis stopped what he was doing and looked at him. 

“Of course.”

Harry heaved a big breath. “Do you think I should tell Ezra?”

Louis’ eyebrows raised. “Oh. Wow.”

He immediately regretted his question. “You know, never mind. I shouldn’t’ve asked.” He knew mentioning Ezra was a mistake because Louis hated him and wouldn’t admit it. When Harry first went out with him Louis warned him to be careful because he’d heard rumors about him. He didn’t listen to Louis and now he almost wished he had. 

“No, Harry, that’s...I didn’t mean it that way. I was just surprised you asked my opinion.” Harry knew he was thinking of the argument they had had over his interference. “I wish I knew Ezra better so I could tell you what I thought would be best, but I just don’t know him like that. But I do know you,” he said. “And I know talking through things helps you sometimes. So, go ahead.”

“I just...I feel like it would have been a bad idea to have a baby with Ezra. I don’t think he’s dad material. I don’t even know that he’s really boyfriend material. I think I’m breaking up with him.”

Louis furrowed his brow but said nothing. 

“I don’t think I want to tell him about the baby.”

“No?”

Harry shook his head. “There’s no baby to tell him about anymore,” he said quietly. “There’s no point in telling him, especially if there’s no future for us. And I don’t think there is,” he shrugged. 

“Why not?” Louis asked. 

“He’s just not the one,” Harry said. He smiled a little. “I know it sounds dumb, but I feel like when you know, you know. He’s not that attentive. He doesn’t notice little things, like when I style my hair differently or when I’m exhausted and need to just not talk. I know it’s stupid but it means something to me.”

Louis sat listening to Harry intently, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. It was how Harry knew he was listening. He did it when he was concentrating. Finally, he flicked his head back and forth. “I don’t think that’s stupid.”

“No?”

“No.”

  
  


Louis dropped a sack on Harry's desk, startling him out of his computer work daze.

“What is that?”

“A sandwich.”

“Oh,” he said, pushing it off his keyboard. “Thanks, but I’m not hungry.”

“You sure? It’s your favorite.”

“I’m sure. I’m in the post-breakup nausea phase.”

Louis frowned down at him. “Post-breakup? You broke up with Ezra? When?”

“Last night,” Harry said. 

“How did it go?” he asked.

The image of Ezra’s hair falling into his eyes that morning surfaced in Harry's mind. “As well as could be hoped, I guess. I’m just still feeling weird.”

“Did you…”

“No, Lou, I didn’t tell him.” A beat of silence pulsed between them. Louis still hovered over Harry so he sighed and turned to him. “What?”

“Do you want to go out for drinks with me tonight?”

Harry hesitated. “I don’t know…”

“Come on, it’ll be fun. Mick said he’d come. Maybe Liam will, too.” Liam was Louis’s other best friend from college. 

“I just don’t really want to go out.”

“Don’t let yourself get down. You made the right decision, Harry. Let’s go out and have a fun night with our friends. I think it’ll feel good.”

Harry minimized the window he was looking at and glanced at him, leaning on the edge of his cubicle. He was wearing his smirky grin, the one that could convince him to do just about anything. Case in point, it was that grin that got him to climb the Botanical Garden fence after hours. “I’ll think about it,” he conceded. The glint of humor in Louis’s eyes told him that Louis knew his “think-about-it” was as good as a yes. 

“Shut up,” Harry said as he made his way back to his desk. 

  
  


“Where are we going again?” Harry asked Louis in the car as they pulled away from the office at five o’clock. He technically never said he would go, but he never said he wouldn’t either, which was how he found himself in the back of a Sedan driving down Market Street. 

“Temple, I think. Mick said that’s where he wanted to go.”

“Mick wanted to go to Temple?” Mick didn’t strike Harry as a club-goer. Then again, he didn’t know the man all that well, and reasoned it was possible that he was and Harry just didn’t realize. 

Louis nodded. “I guess so. If we don’t like it, we can just go somewhere else.”

Harry shrugged. All he really wanted to do was go home and lay in bed watching a movie, but he didn’t want to say so. Ever since Louis and Mick had gotten together Harry spent less time with him. And even though he was happy for them, he missed Louis. He assured himself tonight would be a good night for some quality time, albeit group-and-in-a-loud-club quality time. 

When they arrived there was already a line queuing on the sidewalk. They thanked their driver and stepped into the night, underdressed and apparently late to the party. Louis didn’t seem fazed by the line or their attire and walked right up to the bouncer. 

“Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles,” he said to the man, who flipped through the list. He stepped aside, letting them walk through. 

“Have a good night guys,” he said as they passed through the door. The immediate darkness accompanied by strobe lights passed over Harry, eliciting memories from college as he attempted to follow Louis through a sea of sweaty bodies. 

Louis sat down in a booth where Mick and Liam were seated with four drinks in front of them. Harry slid in beside Liam, gesturing to the fourth beer. “For me?”

Liam nodded, sipping off his own bottle. Harry watched Mick and Louis kiss hello. “Hi baby,” he was pretty sure Mick said. Lip reading wasn’t his strong suit. 

“Hi darling,” he was fairly certain Louis said back. 

Harry took a sip of his beer, pausing his lip reading to survey his surroundings. They were seated in a booth on the upper corner of the dance floor. Across from them was a DJ booth where a guy with a backwards hat and a tattoo on his arm that said DJ McCool was spinning his beats. Throngs of people were moving to the music on the dance floor, seeming to be thoroughly enjoying themselves. He watched as one man and woman danced as though they were one continuous being of gyrating limbs and torsos. 

“Harry!” He turned his attention back to the table where Louis was gesturing to the four shot glasses that had magically appeared while his attention was diverted. Mick tried to shake his head, but Louis whispered something in his ear which Harry could definitely not lip-read. He begrudgingly held it in the air, joining Liam and Louis’s hands. They all looked at him expectantly. 

“I don’t like vodka,” he tried to say over the pulsing music. 

Louis motioned to his ear and shook his head. “Can’t hear you,” he shouted. “One, two, three, cheers!” He counted down quickly and clanged their glasses together, tipping his shot into his mouth. Harry sighed, wondering if the shot would make this club seem any more fun. 

  
  


One shot didn’t help, but three more did. Harry's mood suddenly felt lifted and the dancing in the middle of the club looked like a lot of fun. Louis and Mick were inseparable, so he pulled on Liam’s arm. “Wanna dance?”

Liam hiccupped loudly. “O-okay. Only if you lead, though. I’ve got two right feet.”

“I think you mean two left feet.”

“Whatever, you know what I mean,” he said. Harry started laughing, which oddly sounded very high pitched. 

“Why are you laughing?” Liam asked as they reached the edge of the mob of grinding bodies. 

“I think I’m drunk.”

Liam smiled down at Harry a little. “Harry, you were drunk a long time ago. You’re hammered.”

“Shit, I haven’t been hammered in so long.”

Liam took his hands and started moving to the beat of the song, which he had never heard before. He wasn’t dancing at all the way the people around them were. “Then you’re due,” Liam said, twirling Harry. He shouldn’t have been surprised. Liam had always followed the beat of his own drum. 

They had fun not-quite-dancing for what Harry estimated was an hour. His hair was soaked with sweat and he was trying to teach Liam how to swing dance but he was too intoxicated to get the steps. Which was saying something about his drunkenness, considering there were pretty much just two. 

“I told you I have two right feet.”

“Left.”

“What?”

“Never mind,” Harry said, giving up on trying to correct him. 

“Do you want to get another drink? I need a break,” Liam said. Harry nodded, following him off the dance floor over to the bar. It was crowded with half-dressed people vying for the bartender’s attention. They spent the better part of twenty minutes securing two more drinks. Harry went more slowly with this one than he had with the previous one. He knew he was a lightweight. 

“You seemed sad when you got here. Are you okay?”

Harry shifted under the weight of Liam’s question. “I’m feeling good now.”

“Come on, H. I’ve known you for five years. It takes a lot to get you down. I can tell when something is bothering you,”

Harry took another sip of his drink to buy himself an extra few seconds. “I broke up with Ezra.” The words fell out of his mouth like loose beads off a broken necklace; he couldn’t control them. 

“You did? That’s weird, he didn’t say anything to me about it.”

“That’s probably because it happened last night.”

Liam gave him the side eye. “What happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said flatly. 

“You guys seemed good together, though. And wasn’t the sex great or something?”

“Oh my God,” Harry walked away as fast as he could, sitting back down in their booth. Louis and Mick looked up from their conversation to acknowledge him. Mick squinted his brow and gestured to Harry's hair.

“Dancing,” he mouthed. 

“Oh,” he mouthed back. 

He looked over to see Liam dancing on the dance floor by himself with his drink still in his hand. He had moves, Harry had to give him that. And he wasn’t spilling a drop of beer. When he started doing the Macarena Harry finally gave up watching and turned away. 

Louis tapped his hand. “You okay?” he signed to him. 

“Fine,” Harry signed back. They had taken an American Sign Language class together in college. They didn’t know a lot, but they liked using it sometimes. 

Mick laughed. “You guys are so funny with that.” Harry got the feeling that he was upset that they were talking in front of him, which he tried not to do usually. He dropped his hands and switched to words, which was difficult in the loud club. 

“Having fun?”

“Is three beers each having fun? Because if so, yes,” Louis said. 

Harry grinned back at him. “I’m drunk, you know.”

“I know.”

“I haven’t been drunk in a long time,” Harry said. 

“Not since the McCoy party, right?” 

Harry nodded. Liam slid in next to him, out of breath. “Are you guys hot? It’s getting hot in here,” he said, fanning himself. 

“So take off all your clothes,” Harry quipped, smirking at what he thought was a good joke. 

“You’re not funny,” Liam said. 

“I am too funny.”

“You’re not. Louis, tell Harry he’s not funny,” he shouted across the table. 

“He is funny, Liam.”

Liam rolled his eyes. “You guys _both_ have bad senses of humor. I’m going to dance some more. Coming, Harry?”

He hesitated, but didn't want to be the third wheel with Louis and Mick, so he agreed. He followed Liam back into the sea of strange bodies, still intoxicated enough to find the whole thing kind of enticing. Liam took his hands again. 

“I think I finally have this swing dance thing. Watch,” he did the steps and flashed Harry a toothy grin after he’d spun him. Harry grinned back.

“You did it,” Harry said. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this good. His face was warm from the alcohol and his body was moving of its own accord, free from the restraints of his own self-consciousness under the influence. 

“You look like you’re having fun now,” Liam commented as they continued dancing. 

“I’ve been having fun for a while,” he replied. As Liam spun him the next time, his eye caught on a familiar face across the room. He lost his balance and fell to the side. 

“Harry, you okay? I guess you’re drunker than I thought,” Liam asked as he grabbed ahold of his left arm. 

Righting himself, Harry could feel his heart beating faster in his chest. “Ezra’s here,” he said as quietly as he could. 

“What?”

“Ezra! He’s here!” he hissed through his teeth. He felt his skin go cold and clammy. His line of sight followed Ezra as he made his way toward the bar, laughing and talking with his friends. Harry beelined back for the table, trying to stay below the top of the crowd so as not to be spotted. 

Louis and Mick looked up at him as he frantically pawed for his bag. “Harry, what are you doing?” Louis leaned toward him, concern laced in his voice. 

“Ezra is here,” he was on the verge of tears at this point. “I have to go.” He turned around and ran toward the exit, his lungs squeezing too tightly to draw in a proper breath. He ran by the bouncer who admitted them earlier in the night and out onto the lamplit street. 

Once outside he felt the air rush back into his chest. He sat down on the curb. 

“Harry? Are you alright?”

Louis, Mick and Liam walked up behind him, hesitant expressions on their faces. 

He wiped his face. “Yeah, I’m fine. I think I should head home. But you guys stay. You’re having fun. I don’t want to ruin it.”

Louis regarded him skeptically. “Fine? Are you sure?”

Harry shot him a warning glance. He didn’t want to talk about it in front of Liam and Mick. He didn’t want them to know the details of his breakup. Mostly because Ezra didn’t know a lot of the details behind their breakup.

“Okay,” Louis said. “Well, let’s get you a car.”

He lifted his phone. “I already ordered an Uber. He’s a minute away.”

Louis nodded. He turned to Mick and Liam. “I’ll meet you guys back inside? I’m just going to make sure he gets into his car okay,” he said. Liam agreed, disappearing back into the club after bidding Harry goodnight. Mick kissed Louis’s cheek and waved to Harry, walking back through the door, too.

Louis sat down next to Harry on the curb. “You saw Ezra?”

“Yeah.”

“Why did you panic? I know you guys just broke up, but you can still see each other around, can’t you?”

Harry shook his head. “I can’t face him. I didn’t tell him what happened. Our breakup wasn’t easy because I couldn’t be honest about why it was ending. He was upset and I can’t see him the next day after I’ve been drinking and feel awful and still crying everyday because I almost had his baby.” Not until he said them out loud did he realize how true the words were. 

Louis didn’t respond because Harry's Uber pulled up in front of them. He opened the door for him, helping him step up into the backseat. 

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” he said.

Louis shut the door, waiting on the sidewalk until the driver had pulled out into the street and down the block. Harry rested his head on the seat, his mind flipping through everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours. It felt like some kind of warped record. 

  
  


“Harry...Harry, wake up.”

He forced his eyes open with extreme effort, blinking several times in the bright light coming through the window. Niall stood over him holding a glass of water in his hand. 

“Looks like you had a wild night,” he said, setting the water down on the table next to the couch, where he had apparently slept. He didn’t remember getting home, going up to the apartment or even falling asleep.

He sat up and reached for the glass. After he’d taken a couple sips, he said, “I went out with Louis and Mick and Liam and saw Ezra at the club.”

Niall’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

He nodded. 

“What did he say?”

“Nothing, I ran out of the club as soon as I saw him.”

Niall sighed. “Why?”

He hadn’t told Niall the whole story, either. “We broke up the night before. It was too soon.”

Niall regarded him sympathetically. “It’ll get better, Harry, I promise.”

He washed down his advice with the last of the water and stood up, heading to his bedroom. 

“Where are you going?” Niall asked, perching on the arm of the couch. 

“For a run,” he called back. 

“Aren’t you hungover?” Niall asked as he pulled a fresh shirt over his head. 

“Yeah, running makes me feel better,” he yelled. He finished dressing in his running clothes, emerging back into the living room. Niall was puttering around in the kitchen. 

“I’ll be back later,” he said. 

“Okay, crazy.”

On the street below, just as they did the previous night, his feet took over for his brain. He turned up the music in his earbuds and began his run through the neighborhood, weaving through pedestrians on occasion. The foggy air felt good in his lungs and he pushed himself to go faster, outracing the memories from the previous night. 

Ezra’s face smoothed with sleep haunted his vision and he shook his head, trying to think of anything else. But then anything became the doctor in the hospital pointing out his baby on the monitor and showing him that there was no heartbeat. 

Harry was in an all-out sprint and when he looked up he found himself in a completely foreign part of town. He slowed to a walk and stooped over to catch his breath, tasting the alcohol from last night on his tongue. Blinking up at the buildings around him, he realized he was in Chinatown. He reversed his direction and picked up his pace again. 

  
  


When he got back home, Niall was blending something green in the blender. He stopped when he walked in, sweaty and red-faced. “You were gone awhile. How far did you go?”

He sat down to unlace his sneakers. “Like six miles. I wouldn’t have gone so long, but I wasn’t paying attention and ended up near Chinatown.”

Niall shook his head. “I don’t know how you do that all the time. I hate running.” He walked over and handed him a cup of the green concoction he’d been working on. 

“Thanks. What’s in it?”

“Spinach, banana, pineapple.”

“Hm,” he murmured, eyeing the beverage carefully. 

“Just fucking drink it.”

He stuck out his tongue at him, then took a hesitant sip. It didn’t taste bad, so he drank more. Niall smiled at him. 

“What?”

“You have a green mustache,” he pointed at his mouth. 

He swiped at his upper lip and set down the nearly empty glass. “I’m going to go shower,” he announced, heading to the bathroom.

He stripped off his clothes, depositing them in a heap at his feet. Turning the water on full-blast and scalding hot, he looked at his reflection in the mirror. He traced his finger over his belly-button, imagining what would have happened if his baby were still inside him. His body looked just the same as it always had, but something felt different. Like he was hollow inside. 

He shrugged off the uncomfortable thought, stepping into the shower. 

  
  
  


At work on Monday, Louis looked more haggard than Harry had on Saturday morning. 

“Morning,” he said, dropping into his desk chair. 

Louis barely glanced up, the bags under his eyes bruise-purple. “Morning.”

“You okay? You look kind of wrecked,” Harry said gently. 

He shook his head. “No.”

“No?”

“Let’s just leave it at that,” Louis said, tone hard. Harry dropped it. 

“Harry.” His boss, Arthur, poked his head out of his office. “Can I see you for a moment?”

“Sure,” he said, crossing the room toward him. He tugged on the sleeve of his button-down self-consciously, suddenly hyper-aware of his appearance. It was missing one button and his slacks were three years old, but he tried not to think about it as he closed his office door behind him. 

Arthur settled in his desk chair, surveying Harry for a moment with his dark eyes. “So, I have a project proposal for you,” he began.

“Oh?”

“Yes. There are marches planned in the city in the next few months and I want you to attend all of them with a crew to interview attendees. Get their input on why they’re marching,” he said. “You can go any direction you like with this. I want a full documentary on the subject you end up with. Assemble a team for the project and give it a name. You can submit the firm proposal to me by the end of the month.”

Harry sat in his chair for a moment, taken aback. “Do I get to think about it?”

“Oh, sure,” he waved his hand carelessly. “But trust me, you want to do it. No one has a project going like this yet. I’m envisioning a release next summer, just in time for election campaign season.”

Something stirred in his stomach. This was the big opportunity he had been waiting for. Even though he wanted to feign nonchalance, he was buzzing with excitement inside. Ideas raced through his mind at hyper-speed. 

“Thank you, Arthur. I’ll get back to you as soon as possible,” he promised. 

He nodded, having anticipated Harry's response. “I look forward to it. Oh, and Harry?”

“Yes?”

“Really give us something, alright?”

It was Harry's turn to nod. He intended to. As he walked back to his desk he was consumed by thoughts of where to take his vision. He had been following the marches in the city since last fall. He knew the next one was planned for a few weeks out, so it gave him time to get some colleagues on board with the project. He didn’t anticipate much resistance to it, however, given the general dissenting attitude around the office with the national government. 

“What’s with the grin?”

He looked up to see Louis’s inquisitive glance directed at him. He touched his mouth and found it upturned in a huge smile. He tried to wipe it off without success.

“I’ll tell you later,” I said. 

Louis cocked an eyebrow at him but didn’t say anything else, which was very unlike him. He turned back to his computer. 

  
  


Harry could see the water cresting onto the shore of the beach out of the window. From his vantage point on the third floor of the building, he imagined what it would be like to let the waves carry him somewhere far away. 

“Harry? Did you hear me?”

His mind drifted back to the woman sitting in the chair across from him, her expression expectant and slightly plaintive. 

“Sorry, no,” he admitted. 

“How are you doing since the miscarriage?”

He looked down at his hands folded in his lap. The word sliced through him as if it had been a knife. “I’m...okay. I’m okay.”

Dr. Shields set her pen down. “Just okay?”

“Right now, for me, okay is the best I could be. Some days I’m miserable, some days I’m so sad I can hardly bring myself to get out of bed. Some days it’s all I can do to eat a bite of food,” Dr. Shields’ pen was back in her hand, scratching against her notebook. “So okay is my best.”

Dr. Shields’ mouth turned downward. “I’m sorry to hear that, Harry.”

“Yeah, well. It is what it is.”

“Do you have anyone you’re able to confide in? Anyone you can talk through your feelings with about what’s happening for you?”

 _Isn’t that supposed to be you?_ “My best friend Louis knows. He’s been supportive and there for me since it happened.”

“So you’ve talked with him about this?”

“Yes.”

“Recently?”

He waited a beat, pausing. “Not in a while.”

“And why is that?”

“He’s getting serious with his boyfriend. I don’t have as much time with him as I used to. If I spent more time with him, I think it would be a problem for his boyfriend.”

The therapist nodded her head. “Okay. Is there anyone else you can talk to?” 

“My mom was there through the whole thing and I talk to her every week, most of the time a couple times a week,” he said. 

“About your miscarriage?”

“Uh...no.”

“Okay.”

“Are you saying I should be talking about it more?”

Dr. Shields’ eyes met his. “No, I’m not saying that. I’m just trying to figure out if you have people you _can_ talk to about it. It sounds like you do, but you’re not talking about it. Why is that?”

Harry looked out the window at the water again. “Because I don’t know what to say.”

“Okay. That’s fair enough.”

“Okay.”

“Are you angry, Harry?”

Harry looked at the couch cushion on his lap, one frayed tassel combing through his fingers. “Angry about what?”

“You would need to tell me that.”

“I’m not angry.”

Twenty minutes later Harry stood on the street below Dr. Shields’ office building. He wasn’t sure how to feel about the session. Sometimes he contemplated stopping therapy, but other times he knew it wasn’t a good idea to stop. Dr. Shields’ was a new therapist after his last one moved away. He had been seeing her for a few weeks. The main theme of all his sessions with her was working through the feelings he had after losing the baby. So far, he didn’t feel any better about it. But then he wasn’t sure if it was something he would ever feel better about. 

Dr. Shields’ said she couldn’t tell him whether or not that would be true for him, since, she said, every case was individual.

He wanted to scream at that idea. 

He made his way downtown toward the restaurant where he was supposed to meet Louis, Mick and a group of friends for Louis’s birthday dinner. Since most everyone had been out of town this year, they’d planned a belated celebration. They all had dinner together every few months, an occasion he always looked forward to. He walked up to the patio of the restaurant, waving when he saw Liam from a few feet away. 

Liam pulled him into a tight hug. “Hey. How are you?”

“Good,” Harry nodded, trying to keep any emotion that could betray him off his face. “You?”

Liam quirked his mouth up. “Tired. I’ve been working long hours lately. The hospital has been crazy and I covered a shift last night for—”

Harry's stomach dropped when he realized whose name Liam had just stopped himself from saying. “Ezra,” he finished for him. 

Liam’s eyes shone with regret. “Sorry, Harry.”

Harry shook his head, ignoring the pressing sensation on his temples. “I’m fine, it’s okay. It’s been a month. I’ve moved on. I’m sure that he has too.” He glanced at his friend’s guilty expression again. “Liam, it’s fine, stop feeling bad. You’re allowed to mention his name. You guys were friends before me and him. You can be friends after.”

Liam nodded. 

“How is he?” He tried to stop himself from asking the question, but he couldn’t.

Liam hesitated. 

“I just—I just want to know how he’s doing,” he pleaded. 

“Harry, you should ask him yourself.” Knowing he was right but disappointed anyway, he turned around as some more of their friends arrived. Olive ran up to him and threw her arms around his neck. He laughed as he struggled to stay standing. 

“Oh, I’ve missed you,” he sighed into her ear. 

She pulled back and he could see the sparkle in her eyes. “I’ve missed you, too.” She looped her arm through his and they walked into the restaurant together. Harry was struck by the decorations littered about the long table reserved for them. Louis deserved the best, after all. He wondered who had arranged it. He would have done it himself, but he didn’t want to step on Mick’s toes. He and Olive sat down next to each other toward the head of the table. 

“Where did all these decorations come from?” she asked him, draping her napkin on her lap. 

Harry shrugged. “Dunno.”

Louis and Mick trailed in behind a few other people. Harry smiled as they sat down in the two neighboring seats. “There’s the birthday boy!” Olive jumped up and hugged Louis from behind, kissing his cheeks incessantly. Louis whispered something in her ear and she laughed, head thrown back, before sitting back down next to Harry. 

“Happy birthday, Lou,” Harry said from his seat. Louis beamed back at him, his cheeks flushed from Olive’s affection. Louis signed thank you to him as the noise in the room increased tenfold from new arrivals. 

The rest of their party filed in and sat down, chatting merrily with each other. Harry leaned across the table to say hello to friends he hadn’t seen since their last dinner and realized how much had missed them. 

Niall snuck into the room and sat down across from Harry and Olive, running his hands through his hair to fix the sides that stuck up in all directions. It looked like he had run to the restaurant. 

“Oi, Ni.”

Niall looked up at Harry. “Hm?”

“You good?”

Niall nodded, his breath still coming in puffs. “Yeah.”

Harry was about to say something else when Louis stood up from his chair, tapping his knife against his water glass. Everyone looked up from their divided conversations, the din of their greetings fading with the chime of his silverware. 

Louis smiled once he had gotten their attention. “Hi everyone. Well, I’m so glad we could all get together and see each other. I know that we’re all busy and we’re not scooping ice cream for a living anymore,” he paused as the group laughed. “But I just wanted to say how much I care about everyone in this room.”

“Happy birthday, Louis!” Liam shouted from the end of the table. A chorus of ‘happy birthday’s echoed around the room, and Liam started banging his fist on the table, encouraging everyone to join in until not one individual voice could be heard among the noise. 

Louis blushed, gesturing for everyone to settle down, and the room quieted again. “Thank you. I’m so grateful to have people like you in my life,” Louis made eye contact with Harry, and Harry felt his insides warm. “Which is why I couldn’t think of a better group of people to do this with.”

_Do what with? Oh no._

“Mick, will you stand up, please?” Louis turned to his boyfriend, who looked almost as bewildered as Harry felt. Mick pushed his chair back, glancing nervously into the faces around the table. The air itself seemed to hold its breath. 

“Mick, I love you. I know we haven’t been together that long, but I don’t think that matters as much as how I feel about you. I know I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I don’t want to wait.” A collective gasp rounded the room, sending chills down Harry's spine as Louis sank down to one knee. 

He held a black box out toward Mick. “Mick Allen, will you marry me?”

Mick covered his mouth with his hands, staring at Louis for what seemed like ages. He finally nodded his head, more and more enthusiastically. “Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes!” 

Louis laughed as he stood up and the room erupted in chaos. People abandoned their seats to rush to Mick and Louis’s sides once Louis slid the ring on Mick’s finger. 

Harry felt rooted to his spot, watching the entire scene unfold. 

Olive gripped his arm, her excitement radiating through her fingertips. He turned to her, smiling too. “Did he tell you beforehand?”

Harry shook his head. “No, he didn’t. I was totally surprised until about two seconds before he did it.” He remembered the moment Louis and Olive shared just before his proposal. “Why, did he tell you?”

“Oh, no. If he would’ve told anyone, I would’ve expected it to be you.”

Harry looked over at Louis and Mick surrounded by a mass of their ecstatic friends. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “Me too.”

Olive nudged his arm. “I’m going to go see the ring,” she said, wandering into the fray. 

  
  


Harry didn’t say a word the whole way home. Niall jabbered the entire time about the reason he was late, which was a cover-up for the _real_ reason he was late, which was Shawn. Harry was pretty sure Niall knew he knew he was lying, but he couldn’t be sure, since he was committing so hard to his alibi. 

“And then I looked at the time and realized—oh fuck, I’m late, and literally ran six blocks to the restaurant.” Niall kicked off his shoes as they walked in the door and headed straight for the couch, onto which he collapsed. “Can you believe Louis and Mick are engaged? That’s so wild, dude.” He rubbed his hands over his eyes. When Harry didn’t respond, he moved them and looked at him for the first time in half an hour. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” Harry said, straightening Niall’s shoes at the door and walking into the kitchen to turn on the tea kettle. He felt the silence grow heavier while he filled it with water. 

“When has that answer _ever_ been convincing?” Niall stood up, walking over. “Come on, out with it. What’s wrong? You’ve been weird since we left dinner.”

“I said nothing, Niall.” Dr. Shields’ voice echoed in Harry's head about how he had people to talk to, so why wasn’t he? 

“Is it about the engagement?”

Something inside Harry snapped. “It’s not the engagement, it’s the fact that Louis didn’t _tell me_ he was getting engaged.” He could feel the anger rumbling beneath the surface, like he was about to boil over, too. 

Niall frowned. “He didn’t?”

“No.”

“That’s weird.”

“Yeah.”

Niall sighed, leaning his elbows on the counter. “Why is that bothering you so much?”

“Because—” Harry stopped himself. If he said this, then everything might come spilling out. The bubble in his chest that had formed during the proposal would burst and he would never be able to put the contents back inside. “It just seems like maybe Louis and I are growing apart. I know friendships change as we get older and it’s not that I don’t want him to get married, I just didn’t see it coming at all.”

“And he didn’t tell you about it,” Niall said. 

“And he didn’t tell me about it,” Harry agreed. “And our friendship will never be the same after they get married. I mean, Mick gets upset when we sign to each other. Which I get. He doesn’t understand it and he’s not included. But we’ve been friends for five years. Louis was my best friend before he was Mick’s fiance.” Harry grabbed his tea and walked over to the couch. Niall followed him. 

“Look, Haz. I get what you’re saying. And this seems like something you should maybe be telling Louis,” Niall paused. “But it seems like something else has been bothering you for awhile now, too. I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want to force you to talk about it, but...I’ve heard you crying. Is there something going on?”

Harry's heart sank. _Fuck_. 

“Um…”

“Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

Harry sighed and closed his eyes. Now or never. “I lost a baby. About a month ago.”

Niall’s eyes widened. “What?”

“When I was in Washington over Christmas,” he said. “And I didn’t know I was pregnant at the time, so I wasn’t expecting it to hit me so hard. But I’ve been feeling so fucking guilty about it.”

“Why do you feel guilty?”

Harry felt the tears welling. “I feel like if I had done things differently, I wouldn’t have lost it. And for one second, it sort of felt, right? Like it was what was supposed to happen? I was supposed to have a baby. But, I wasn’t, because…” Harry trailed off. “And I feel guilty because I also feel relieved. I don’t feel ready at all. But I feel like a horrible person for feeling relieved.”

“Harry,” Niall put a hand on his shoulder. “You’re not a horrible person for feeling relieved. It’s natural to have complicated emotions about this. It’s a complicated thing. I remember feeling this way after I had a miscarriage in college.”

Harry felt his eyes widen. “You never told me that.”

Niall shrugged. “I know. It’s not something I talk about much. I couldn’t look at anything to do with babies for a long time. And I felt guilty about it, too, because the truth was, I didn’t want to have a baby then. It would’ve been really hard and I wasn’t ready. I get it.”

“You do?” Harry felt like he was going to burst into tears of relief. 

Niall nodded. “Yeah.”

Harry did burst into tears. 

Niall wrapped his arms around him. “Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay.” Niall held him tight, rubbing his back in soothing strokes as Harry cried. 

“I just…” He tried to compose his thoughts. It already felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. “What if I never find the person I’m supposed to have a family with? Because when I pictured having a baby with Ezra…” His face swam before his eyes. “I couldn’t see it. It didn’t feel right, and that more than anything is the most confusing part. Because it wasn’t really so much about not wanting to have the baby as it was about not wanting to have one with him.”

Niall nodded. “Harry, I don’t think you need to worry about whether you’re going to find your person. I know that you are,” he said. “And in the meantime, I’m always here for you.”

Harry leaned his head on Niall’s shoulder. He already felt lighter. Dr. Shields had been right. 

“Wanna watch Grey’s?”

Harry nodded and Niall switched on the TV. 

  
  
  
  


Harry waited on Louis’ stoop, trying not to ring the buzzer a second time. 

He paced back and forth, muttering what he had rehearsed under his breath. 

The door clicked open with an electronic noise and Louis’ voice came over the intercom. “Hey, come on up.”

Harry walked up both flights of stairs and found Louis’ apartment door ajar. He wasn’t sure if that was done for him or just because Louis was too trusting and left it like that. Either way, it made Harry nervous. 

He walked in and shut the door behind him. The apartment was a mess; boxes and clothing covered every inch of the floor. Harry started feeling overwhelmed just standing in the entryway.

Louis appeared from the back bedroom, dressed like he was prepared to do housework all day. “Hey, sorry for the mess. Mick’s moving in, still, and he’s got so much shit. It’s been a crazy few days.”

Harry picked his way through the chaos into Louis’ living room. “Need any help?”

Louis sighed. “Yeah, I do. Mick’s out of town job-hunting. But I’ll be fine.” He turned and moved a pile of clothes off the couch so he could sit down. “Anyway, what’s up? It seemed like you had something important you wanted to talk about.”

Harry swallowed his nerves and sat down too. “Yeah, it’s just that we haven’t gotten to talk much since your dinner.”

“Yeah, sorry. I’ve been struggling a bit to keep everything straight.”

Harry nodded and looked directly at Louis. “Look, Lou, I’ll just come right out with it.” Louis stiffened, taking in Harry’s serious tone. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me you were going to get engaged?”

Louis stared at him, his mouth falling open. “That’s what you wanted to talk about?”

Harry shrugged. “Well, yeah. I thought you might have told me before you were gonna do it.”

Louis frowned. “I’m sorry, Harry, I didn’t think I needed to.”

Anger swirled in Harry’s belly. “Why wouldn’t you tell me something like that? Genuinely, Louis, we’ve been friends for five years. For fuck’s sake, wouldn’t you want to know if I was about to get engaged?”

That stopped Louis in his tracks. He froze, like he’d been punched. He stood up, walking around to the backside of the couch. “I...I guess so. Yeah.”

“So you can understand why I would be a little upset? Because I have a hard time believing, Louis,” Harry said, still angry. “That you wouldn’t be pissed at me if the roles were reversed.”

Louis looked at his feet. “Yeah. You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Harry had more he had planned on saying, but Louis looked so defeated, he couldn’t continue. Harry stood up. “Lou, I’m happy for you. I really am.”

Louis peeked at him. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Why didn’t you?” Harry had to ask. 

“Why didn’t I what?”

“Tell me.”

Louis blew a breath through his nose. “I don’t know. I didn’t like, consciously not tell you. I guess I just thought you might think it was a bad idea, and I didn’t want you to tell me that.”

Harry knew he was about to lie. “I wouldn’t have told you it was a bad idea.”

“I know.”

  
  
  


**. . .**

The crowd around Harry pulsed with an energy that felt like he’d had four cups of coffee. He stood with Shawn and a few other colleagues who had their camera equipment, surveying the people and their signs and wondering what each of their reasons were for being at the march. 

“Harry, where do you want us?”

He turned to Shawn, who stood poised to direct the rest of their team, looking at him expectantly. 

He jutted his chin across the street. “Let’s go over there, in the foot traffic. That way we can see everything that’s going on and people can stop if they want.” Shawn nodded, gesturing for everyone to follow him. He spoke into the bluetooth in his ear as he walked. 

Harry shook his hands out at his sides. He wasn’t certain what, but he knew they were starting something, right there. Blowing out his breath, he crossed the street, too. 

  
  
  


“And why do you march today?” Harry asked from behind the camera, his pen poised over his notebook. He liked taking notes during the interviews. 

The woman they were interviewing smiled a little, staring straight into the camera. “I march because for so many centuries women have been repressed and for so many centuries we have found ways to fight back. This is one of the ways I choose to fight back.” Harry found himself nodding along with her. He thanked her and shook her hand, letting her know that they would be in touch if they used the footage of her. She nodded and picked her sign back up, walking off into the crowd. 

“Okay, let’s take five,” Harry addressed the crew. “We’ll regroup after and see if we need any more.”

As the crew dispersed, Shawn sighed and leaned against the wall. He smiled at Harry. “Do you know what this is about yet?”

“Mm,” he sighed. “Not really. I’m kind of hoping that it’ll reveal itself the more we go along.”

Shawn laughed. “How many interviews do we have so far?”

“About fifteen?”

They fell silent. Shawn kicked his leg against the wall, watching the participants go by. 

“So, how are you?”

He glanced over. “Fine. You?”

“Yeah, fine too.”

“I heard Louis got engaged.”

Harry nodded. 

“You know, we always thought it would be you.”

“Who’s we?”

Shawn seemed to catch himself. “Just some of us at the office.”

Harry knew better. “Yeah, well. He and I have been friends for a long time. We’re just friends.”

Shawn eyed him with a small smile on his face. “Yeah. Friends. Those are hard to come by.”

Harry furrowed his brow at his comment. “Are they?”

“Good ones? Oh yeah. Great ones, even more so. But the best ones, they can take ages to find. Or realize what they mean to you.” Shawn pushed away from the wall. “But I’m sure you know that.” He pulled back his sleeve to check his watch. “I’m going to get a coffee. Want one?”

“No thanks.”

“Okay.”

Harry watched him walk away, wondering what had inspired his odd speech. He wondered if it had anything to do with Niall. He hadn’t caught them in the bathroom together again. Harry pushed it out of his mind, opening his notebook to look back over his notes. 

  
  
  


“Hey.” Harry was sitting in a booth at his favorite diner when Louis’ voice stirred him out of his thoughts. He smiled.

“Hi.”

“Hungry?” Louis asked, handing Harry a menu.

“Yeah, starving. I haven’t eaten all day.”

His eyebrows puckered. “Why?”

Harry shrugged, gesturing to his notebook with scribbles strewn up and down both pages. “Just working on this project proposal. We went to the march the other day and now I’m trying to hone in on a vision and idea to pitch to Arthur.”

“Right, right. I forgot. How’s it going?”

Harry set down his menu. “Good, I think. I’m nervous, though. I feel like my entire future at the company is hinging on this. I mean, I have no idea what I’m doing.” Both of them laughed. “But it’s so exciting, too.”

Louis regarded him with softness in his eyes. “You always said you wanted to make movies.”

Harry grinned. “I did say that, didn’t I?”

“All the time. Even when you were a waiter and I worked in an ice cream shop, you always had stars in your eyes. You believed for both of us, even when I didn’t think I’d get out of that smock.”

Their server, a sandy-haired girl, walked up to the table at that moment. Mentally picturing Louis in his smock and paper hat, Harry relayed what he wanted to her. “Can I get a salad with dressing on the side?”

Marla, their server, nodded. “Sure. And for you?”

“Uh, I’ll get a turkey sandwich.”

“Fries?”

“No, just the sandwich. Thanks.”

After she walked away, Harry teased Louis. “No fries? Are you sick?”

Louis shook his head. “Nah, just not that hungry.”

Harry wrinkled his forehead. “How very un-Louis of you.”

“Oh, don’t even talk, Sally.”

“Sally?”

“Yeah, you went all _When Harry Met Sally_ with your salad order.”

Harry flushed, realizing his reference. “I just wanted something simple. Plus they always put too much dressing unless you ask for it on the side,” he paused. “Is something bothering you?”

Louis stared at him. “Why do you ask?”

“That’s not a no,” Harry said.

“It’s not a yes.”

“It may as well be,” Harry pressed. “Come on, you’ve been acting weird and you know it. Are you okay?” He couldn’t help but think he was repeating what Niall had said to him just days before. 

Louis sighed, exhaling through his nostrils. “I didn’t really want to bring it up. You’ve had so much going on and I don’t want to add myself to the list of things you worry about.”

 _I always worry about you_ , Harry thought. “What is it?” he asked gently. 

Louis looked away. “It’s...it’s my dad. He was arrested last month.”

His mouth fell open. “What?”

“Yeah, on assault and battery charges.”

“Against who?”

Louis flicked his eyes to Harry and away again. “My mom.” He fiddled with his napkin, creasing it down the side. 

“Oh God, Lou.” Harry started. “I am so…”

“I’ve just been trying to be there for her. He couldn’t get out on bail so he’s been there for several weeks and my mom wanted the charges dropped but I wouldn’t let her.”

“How long has it been happening again?” he asked. 

Louis didn’t answer right away. 

“Jesus,” Harry said, leaning back in his chair. “It never stopped, did it?”

“I just feel so responsible,” Louis said. “If I were still there I could protect them.”

“Louis,” he reached across the table, taking hold of his hand. “It’s not your fault.”

He looked at Harry with sadness. “Yeah, I know. But it’s still on me. I’m the only one who can be there for my mom and sisters.”

“What about Sam? Where’s he?”

Louis’ expression shifted from one of upset to contempt. “He’s no help. I doubt he even knows this is happening.”

Harry sighed. “I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

“No. I’m sorry for even bringing it up.”

“Don’t do that. You know I’m always here.”

Louis allowed the beginnings of a smile to form. “I know.”

Harry parted his lips to ask another question. _Does Mick know what’s going on?_ But it was a pointless question. He must have. 

“So anyway,” Louis said, clearly trying to steer the conversation away from him. “Have you seen Ezra since that night at Temple?”

Harry’s stomach clenched. “Uh, no.” He chose not to tell Louis that he had almost called him three times. “I haven’t.”

“Are you ever going to tell him?” Louis unfolded his napkin, flattening it against the table.

“Probably not.”

Their server came back carrying their plates. Harry was grateful for the interruption. He didn’t want to talk about Ezra or what had happened. 

“Here we go,” Marla chirped, setting the salad down in front of Harry and the sandwich in front of Louis. “Do you guys need anything else?”

Harry shook his head in unison with Louis. Once Marla had left, they both started eating, ending their previous conversations. Harry thought they both hoped that neither subject would be brought back up. 


	2. june 2018  —  july 2018

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Mick, I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m tired of having this fight over and over again.” Louis’ voice distracted him from his thoughts. Harry stopped walking, pausing to see where it was coming from. He realized the door to the patio had been left open enough for him to unintentionally intrude upon them. “I want to go home. Can we please just go home?”
> 
> Mick’s voice came back, much harsher than Louis’. “I don’t want to be anywhere near you right now. You can go with Liam, I’ll go home.”
> 
> “Mick, come on,” Louis said, his voice almost pleading. He had never heard him sound that way before. 
> 
> “No, I’m so sick of you belittling my concerns and putting your needs over mine. We’re supposed to be a team. We’re not a team,” Mick said. His words sent shivers down Harry’s spine and he couldn’t understand why. He had a feeling they would be leaving the patio any second and he didn’t want to stick around and create another awkward moment. He took off down the hall as quickly as he could manage, their conversation looping through his mind.

**_June 2018_ **

* * *

“To the happy couple, Louis and Mick. Here’s to a life full of joy, laughter and lots of lovemaking!” The room erupted into a symphony of giggling and shushing. 

“Come on, Liam, be serious!”

Liam grinned cheekily, knowing how angry he was making Louis, which was all the more reason for doing it. He composed himself by clearing his throat. “As I was saying, I wish you both nothing but the best. And Mick, between you and me, don’t let him go back to scooping ice cream. He never was very good at it!”

Mick scrunched up his nose, laughing with everyone else in the room. From his seat across the table, Harry looked and realized he was the only one not laughing. 

  
  


_The bell over the door jingled as Harry walked in. The smell of cream and sugar overwhelmed him as he stood in the entrance, feeling out of place._

_He walked up to the counter, tapping his hand against his leg._

_“Hey,” Louis’ eyes lit up with a grin when he walked out of the back._

_“Hi,” Harry said, some of his discomfort evaporating._

_“What are you doing here?”_

_“Uh,” Harry shifted his gaze from Louis to the menu. “Nothing, I just needed a break.”_

_Louis nodded. “Gotcha. Well, what would you like?”_

_He put his weight into one foot and then the other. Going closer to the glass, he peered at the rows of flavors. “Mint chocolate chip,” he said finally._

_“You got it,” Louis tossed the ice cream scoop in the air like a baton. Catching it again, he wet it and started scooping it into a cup. He handed it over the counter and shut the case again._

_“Thanks. How was your exam?”_

_Louis shook his head. “Awful. You?”_

_Harry shrugged. “Not sure yet.” He took a couple bills out of his back pocket and placed them on the counter._

_“What are you doing?” Louis asked._

_Harry gave him a strange look. “Paying.”_

_“No, you’re not.”_

_“What? Why not?”_

_Louis smiled as the door jingled again and a swath of new customers came in. “Because, Styles, you’re special.”_

“You only say that because you were fired,” Louis retorted, prompting Liam’s face to bloom pink. 

Liam waited while the room burst into laughter again. “Regardless, he has much more talent than what’s needed for scooping ice cream.”

“Was that a backhanded way of complimenting me?”

Liam glowered at Louis. “So, moving on. I can’t wait to see the future unfold and I hope I’m there when it does. To Louis and Mick!”

Everyone raised their glasses, chorusing, “To Louis and Mick!”

Harry took a sip of his champagne after they had toasted them. He watched as Mick wrapped his arm around Louis’ waist, smiling broadly enough that he could see almost all of his teeth. He looked so happy. 

“Harry, you in there?”

He realized Niall had been trying to get his attention. “What? Yeah.”

“I asked if you ever texted that guy you mentioned.”

“What, the online one?” His mouth twisted. “Yeah, a few times.”

“And?” Niall pressed. 

“And nothing. I don’t think there’s anything there.”

“Why?”

Harry shrugged. “It’s just sort of...flat.”

Niall laughed, reaching his hand out toward him. “Show me.”

Harry rolled his eyes, digging for his phone. Dropping it in his hand, he warned Niall, “It’s all very tame. Don’t get too excited.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” he said, studying his screen as if it were a microscopic slide. “Oh God, Harry,” he bemoaned. 

He sighed out the breath trapped in his lungs. “Hm?”

“Do you even know how to flirt?” Niall’s look of trepidation in expectation to his answer was almost amusing. 

“Yes, I know how to flirt.”

“Are you purposely not flirting with this guy?”

“No…”

“So you think this is flirting?”

“Well—”

“Good Lord,” he shook his head. “I’m taking over.” His fingers tapped over Harry’s screen. 

“Niall, no!”

“Niall, yes,” Niall said without looking up. “He last texted twenty minutes ago. I’d say you’re still well within your window,” he said, sounding like a detective. “Okay, good, he asked you out. I’m accepting on your behalf.” He typed out a message so fast that Harry couldn’t take his phone back from him. “There,” he said, smirking. 

Harry glared at him, ripping his phone out of Niall's outstretched hand. “I did not need you to do that.”

“Except that you did, if you ever want to get laid again.”

Someone cleared their throat behind them and both Niall and Harry turned around. Louis was standing there with his arms crossed, eyebrows raised, and Harry felt his face flush at the realization that he had just heard everything Niall said. 

Louis cleared his throat. “Right, should know better than to interrupt a conversation when Niall’s involved,” he said, trying to brush off what he had just overheard. “Anyway, I was coming to get you for pictures.”

“Oh yeah, great,” Harry stood up, moving to follow Louis. As Niall stood up too, dropping his napkin on the table, Harry leaned in to whisper in his ear. “Just so we’re clear, I’m going to kill you for that later.” He moved ahead of him and followed Louis out the door without pausing to look back. His eyes rested on Louis’ form as he walked, wondering if he was playing the last two minutes over in his mind like some kind of broken record, too. 

Then Harry decided he hoped he’d already forgotten it. 

“Found them!” Louis announced as they emerged onto the patio. Mick and the rest of his wedding party cheered a little when they saw Harry and Niall walking in behind his fiance. Liam gestured for Harry to stand next to him, and he slid in next to him, grateful to have an excuse to be away from Niall and Louis for a moment. 

As the photographer started snapping pictures of the wedding party, Harry’s mind wandered to the text Niall had sent from his phone. He hadn’t even checked to see what it had said, though he hadn’t really had time to. The semblance of a smile on his face felt overly forced all of the sudden. 

“Okay, I think we have enough,” the photographer announced at last. 

“Great, thank you,” Mick said to him. “May I see them?”

The congregation of people disbanded and Harry took his opportunity to slip away, hoping to return to his phone before Niall could get ahold of it again. When he arrived back at the table, he was nowhere to be seen and his phone was under his napkin, where he had left it. He opened up the text conversation into which Niall had inserted himself. 

**Would you like to go to dinner on Thursday?** ****

Harry looked back at the text Noah had sent him. He had hardly had time to think about it before, seeing that he was at his best friend’s engagement party. 

**Definitely. Pick me up at 8. Don’t be late.**

Harry stifled a groan at the text Niall had written back in his stead. He wanted to wring his neck. He was about to track him down and do exactly that when his phone buzzed and Noah’s response popped up. 

**You got it. I like your confidence. I can’t wait to see more on Thursday.**

Harry fought an eye roll, knowing that the confidence he was finding so attractive was actually Niall’s. They would probably make a much better couple than he and Harry would. He put his phone away as he surveyed the room. A few of the guests were dancing in the middle to music that had been turned on long ago. Watching couples partnered up, swaying together in an intimate embrace, his chest ached in pain. 

He began gathering his things, deciding he had had enough for the night. Slipping his bag over his shoulder, he headed for the door. 

“Harry, are you leaving?” Niall intercepted him halfway through his escape. 

Harry nodded. “Yeah, I’m pretty tired. And I have a lot to do for work,” he added as an afterthought, though it was true. The documentary was the most important thing on his plate. 

“I’m sorry about earlier,” he apologized. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Harry knew he didn’t. “It’s okay.”

“Are you going to go out with him?” he pressed. 

His patience began wearing thin. “I don’t know. You didn’t give me much of a choice, did you?”

Niall tried unsuccessfully not to smile. “Sorry.”

“See you at home,” he said, walking away. He wasn’t angry at Niall. He just didn’t appreciate being coerced into a date. He wanted to _want_ to go out with them. But truthfully, he didn’t know if there was anyone he wanted to go out with at the moment. He emerged into the hallway, intent on heading straight home and finishing the work he’d put off to be at the engagement party. 

“Mick, I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m tired of having this fight over and over again.” Louis’ voice distracted him from his thoughts. Harry stopped walking, pausing to see where it was coming from. He realized the door to the patio had been left open enough for him to unintentionally intrude upon them. “I want to go home. Can we please just go home?”

Mick’s voice came back, much harsher than Louis’. “I don’t want to be anywhere near you right now. You can go with Liam, I’ll go home.”

“Mick, come on,” Louis said, his voice almost pleading. He had never heard him sound that way before. 

“No, I’m so sick of you belittling my concerns and putting your needs over mine. We’re supposed to be a team. We’re not a team,” Mick said. His words sent shivers down Harry’s spine and he couldn’t understand why. He had a feeling they would be leaving the patio any second and he didn’t want to stick around and create another awkward moment. He took off down the hall as quickly as he could manage, their conversation looping through his mind. 

In the car on the way home, Harry wondered what was going on. He didn’t hear the source of their argument, only the snippets and ugly words exchanged. Harry wished the discomfort he felt could have been remedied by putting it out of his mind. 

No such luck, it seemed. 

**. . .**

  
  
  


7:58 pm. 

Having checked the clock on his phone for what he promised himself was the last time, he shoved it in his pocket and focused on watching the street for his date. After Niall had been so forceful with him, he knew if he didn’t have at least an iota of Niall’s self-assurance it would be a disaster. 

He knew his name was Noah. He knew he was three years older than Harry was. He knew he was a firefighter for San Francisco County. He knew he liked gardening in his spare time. 

That was pretty much all Harry knew about him. That was most of what he put in his online profile, anyway. He was becoming exceedingly nervous about their date, because for all he knew he could be a total creep. 

“Harry?” A dark-haired man dressed in a navy button-down and dark slacks approached him cautiously, his hands hovering by his sides. 

“Noah?” he asked, cautious too. 

Noah smiled, the kind that put Harry at ease. “Hi,” he extended his hand to grip Harry’s. “It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

“You too,” he smiled back at him. He was very handsome, his cheekbones high and sharp and the stubble across his jaw groomed just enough. He tried to stop thinking about his good looks, but the more Harry tried to stop, the more he thought about it. 

“God, you are so beautiful,” Noah said, a bit shy. “Shit, did I just say that out loud?”

Harry laughed, his uneasiness evaporating by the minute. “Thank you,” he said. “Shall we?”

“Yes, let’s. I made a reservation for eight-thirty, I thought we could walk. Is that okay with you?” he asked, gesturing down the street. 

“Of course,” Harry started walking beside him. 

They settled into conversation, beginning the choppy first-date dance. One asked a question, listening intently, adding little attentive noises; the other would make a comment or ask another question in response, acting as though everything they said was the most fascinating thing they’d ever heard. It was a dance Harry had been through a few times and wasn’t always his favorite, nor did he always perform well. On this night, though, it felt easier. 

“So, you’re a firefighter?” Harry asked, imagining Noah’s neat clothing replaced by a yellow fire-retardant suit. He probably would look just as handsome. 

“Yes, for five years,” he answered. 

“I’m sure your parents are very proud.”

Noah’s eyes gleamed in the passing streetlamp light. “I think so,” he chuckled. “My mom sends me newspaper clippings with job advertisements every week, though. She would love it if I suddenly had a change of heart.”

Harry laughed again, the vibrations sending a warm feeling through his chest. “Oh no,” he said, not having thought of his mother’s perspective on his profession. 

“Yeah, well, luckily my dad keeps her from doing anything rash,” he said, his smile turning fond. “So, you’re in media, aren’t you?”

For the first time, Harry felt self-conscious about what he’d chosen to do with his life. Having a first responder in his presence seemed to pale his passions and make them more trivial. “Yes. I’ve worked as a production assistant in my company for the last two years, but I’ve started this new project that would essentially promote me,” he responded, his stomach flipping as he mentioned it. 

“Ooh, what kind of project? Or are you not allowed to say?”

“I’m not,” Harry admitted. “But it’s super cool. I’m making a documentary, that’s all I can say, really.”

“That’s incredible,” Noah said in a tone that made Harry inclined to believe him. “I’ve always admired creative people. I’m not creative at all.”

Harry wasn’t sure what to say to that, but they had arrived at the restaurant. Noah took his hand as they ascended the steps, having noted his heeled boots and taking care so he didn’t trip. He walked up to the maitre-d and gave his name. The man nodded, taking two menus from the shelf behind him and gesturing for them to follow. 

Noah pulled Harry’s chair out for him and he sat down, admiring the soft candlelight and the sconces on the wall that cast a soft glow. There were only a handful of other patrons.

“Are you hungry?” Noah asked, flipping open his menu. 

“Oh definitely,” he answered. “I’m not sure what I want, though.”

Noah leaned over, looking at Harry’s menu upside down, presumably searching for something specific. Finally, he pointed to one halfway down the entree list. “The salmon risotto is to die for,” he said, sitting back in his chair. 

“Do you come here often?” Harry asked, noting the ease with which he had read the menu upside down. 

“Now and then,” he said, his head jerking up when, over Harry’s shoulder, someone called his name. His expression relaxed as he recognized the newcomer. He stood up from his chair, his left hand pressed against the buttons of his shirt and the right reaching out to shake his hand. 

“Peter,” Noah greeted him, his handshake firm. “Good to see you.”

“You too,” the man called Peter said. “It’s been awhile.”

“It has, hasn’t it?”

“Still fighting fires?”

“Of course. Still cutting people open?”

“I always stitch them up when I’m done,” Peter pretended to be offended. Harry concluded that he must have been a surgeon. Otherwise he might have had to reconsider Noah for the company he kept. “Who’s this?” He turned his attention to Harry. He was still sitting down watching their entire exchange. 

“I’m Harry, nice to meet you.”

“My date,” Noah added. 

Peter’s eyes rounded. “Ah,” he tutted. “Well, I’ll let you get back to it, then. Lovely meeting you, Harry. See you, Noah.” He walked back in the direction he had come and Noah returned to his seat. 

“Old friend?” Harry asked. 

Noah’s mouth half-smiled. “You could say that.”

Harry picked up on the fact that there was more than he was letting on, but he wasn’t one to pry, so he let his attention drift back to the menu. Noah shifted the conversation back to the one from the street. “So, your top-secret project. Can you tell me how it’s going?”

As Harry measured what he could say against what would give too much away, their waiter came over to take their order. Harry went with the salmon risotto as Noah had suggested, he ordered the prime rib and a bottle of red wine for the table. 

“Go on,” he encouraged once the waiter had gone. 

“It’s going really well. I’ve never been this excited about something at work.” Hearing his own words, he hurried to clarify. “I mean, I really love my job and what I do, but I’ve never exactly gotten to _do_ it before. Not like this.” He fell quiet when he noticed Noah staring at him without saying anything. “What?”

Noah seemed to come back to himself. “I’m sorry, it’s just that when you talk about it.” Noah paused as if to consider whether he should finish his thought. “Your eyes sparkle. It’s absolutely beautiful.”

Harry’s stomach fluttered at his words and he suddenly wished there was already wine on the table. Noah was certainly charming. He reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, a bit self-conscious. 

“I hope I’m not making you uncomfortable,” Noah said. “I just can’t seem to help myself from telling you how gorgeous you are.”

Harry didn’t know what to say, because he wasn’t uncomfortable, but was just unaccustomed to men who were confident enough to tell him in such plain terms how they felt. “No, no, I’m not. I appreciate it very much. And you’re no slouch yourself.”

Noah laughed. “Good. Anyhow, you were saying?”

Harry nodded, resuming his prior train of thought. 

  
  


“Would you like dessert?”

Harry picked his napkin up off his lap to wipe his mouth. Noah had been right, the salmon risotto was to die for. Coincidentally, he was so full he felt like he might actually die. 

“Oh, I don’t know. I’m stuffed,” he said, wondering if anything else would fit in his stomach if he tried. 

“Okay. Just the check, then,” Noah told the waiter. “We’re pretty close to the Golden Gate lookout. Do you want to go for a quick walk there?”

Harry nodded, and Noah took his hand as they stood up. The air outside was crisp but bearable, and Harry exhaled a contented breath. 

  
  


“Isn’t it insane?”

Harry broke from his reverie induced by the city he had fallen in love with. The wind rustled his hair and he watched the cars on the bridge go by. He wondered if they had any idea that they were part of a masterpiece. 

“What is?” he asked, his eyes catching Noah’s in the dark. 

“Some people look at this and just don’t see. They just see what’s here, but not what it is.” he said slowly, the way someone choosing their words carefully would. Like they really mattered. “I think you’re the kind of person who sees it.”

“Sees what?”

“The magic,” he answered. Harry felt his breath catch in his chest, just the tiny arrhythmia that let him know that his heart was racing faster. 

“The magic,” he repeated. 

Noah held his gaze for a long moment. “Tell me what you see when you look at it.”

Harry turned his head but didn’t look away for a moment. He tested his stare, trying to decipher its meaning. He decided. The stars filled his eyes again, then the lights of the buildings and people and cars. He took a breath. “To me, it’s about possibility. It’s getting to choose what everything means in each given moment. Like right now, the stars look like they’re winking,” he paused to wonder what Noah thought of his answer, but then he chose not to care. “I love city lights because they show you what you can’t see in the day.”

Noah parted his lips, a gush of air falling out. “I knew it.”

“Knew what?”

“You see the magic,” he confirmed. 

Harry smiled. His face felt stiff from the cold, but he barely noticed. “You said you’re not creative,” Harry reminded him. 

Noah frowned. “I’m not. Magic and creativity are two different things.”

Harry arched an eyebrow, asking for an explanation. 

“Creativity is something that inspires you to do, to create. Hence the name. You have to _expel_ it for it to have any purpose. But magic,” he said. “Magic fills you up. Even if for just a split moment, you can feel it. It has an energy that’s impossible to describe. It might come from watching a sunrise before anyone else is awake, or from a song that hits you just right,” Noah indicated lookout. “Or this.”

Harry looked again, and just like Noah had said, the feeling rose inside him, right between his ribs. He felt a laugh get trapped in it. “Who are you?” Harry meant it as a joke but he began to really wonder. 

Noah stepped closer to him, his palms at his sides, shoulders bunched up. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Sure,” Harry said, actually very unsure.

“I don’t know,” Noah said. “But I think that’s exciting. That’s what it’s all about, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Harry echoed softly, thinking privately that he owed Niall an apology. He was so distracted mulling over everything his date had just said and wondering what kind of man he had just stumbled across that he didn’t notice when he pressed in close to his side, so that he felt Noah’s body heat. It startled him for a moment. Then, when it stopped startling him, he dared to look at Noah. He had The Look in his eyes. That ‘ _I’m going to kiss you_ ’ Look, the one that men seemed to universally share. Harry wondered if he ever looked like that. But then he stopped having time to wonder, because his hand was at the nape of his neck, and his other hand was on Harry’s waist. He held his breath as Noah’s face hovered an inch away. And then his mouth met Harry’s, gentle and sweet, and then hungrier, and he was running out of air too fast. Noah pulled away, breathless, Harry inhaled, and then they were kissing again. 

  
  
  


**. . .**

“Why are you smiling like that?”

Harry jumped, his fingers halfway through brushing against his lips. He peered up at the person standing next to him with disgust on their face. 

“No reason,” he said. 

Shawn’s skepticism stayed unwavering. “Yeah, right. I’ve never seen you smile like that.” An idea dawned on him. “Oh, God, did you have sex?”

Harry’s mouth fell open indignantly. “So what if I did?”

Shawn snorted. “Okay, now I know you didn’t. But seriously, why are you so…” he waved his hand in Harry’s vicinity. “So….giddy.” Shawn seemed almost suspicious. 

“I’m not giddy. I just had a good weekend.”

Shawn rolled his eyes. “Okay, whatever. Don’t tell me.”

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours,” Harry sing-songed. Harry could see by Shawn’s sudden change in posture that he’d struck a chord. 

“Shove it,” he said, walking away. It was Harry’s turn to snort. 

He re-focused his attention on watching the march footage they had so far. They’d been working nonstop on the project and he and Shawn often spent nights up until two AM on the phone. They were both becoming intimately aware of how the other lived, which was probably why he felt entitled to know the source of Harry’s good mood. 

He stopped the playback when he thought he heard voices at Louis’ desk conversing. Taking off his headphones, he realized it was just one voice, after all. 

“No, no, just listen to me. You’re not listening!” Louis’ voice traveled over the cubicle, strained and pinched like he was trying to control it. It occurred to Harry for a moment that he might have been talking to Mick, but he dismissed the thought as Louis continued. “I’m not putting them up on that stand. I won’t. No!” This time he shouted, and every eye in the office shot toward him. 

Louis’ face paled when he realized he’d garnered unwanted attention and he stood up from his desk, stalking into the hall. Harry pressed his nails into his palm, suppressing his instinct to follow him. When he could still hear Louis a moment later, shouting again, he got up. 

His back was turned to Harry when he approached. Harry closed the hallway door, attempting to shield his privacy. 

“I’ll call you back,” Louis said sharply, ending the conversation. His hands were in his hair as he turned around. He caught sight of Harry and froze. 

“Oh, hi,” he said. “I didn’t know you were there.” He gestured sort of weakly with the phone in his hand. “Sorry.”

Harry put his arm on the counter, leaning on it for support. Almost whispering, he asked, “What was that all about?”

A shadow passed over Louis’ face. “Um, our lawyer.”

“Lawyer?”

“Yeah, for my dad’s case. Well,” he stopped to correct himself. “He’s not representing my dad. He’s representing us. My mom, I mean.”

Harry nodded but didn’t say anything. 

“They want my family to testify against him. My mom has to take the stand to give her testimony for the night he was arrested and probably attest to the other times he should have been.” His eyes darkened with anger. 

“And you don’t want your mom to testify?” Harry asked, not following. 

Louis sighed, shaking his head. “No, I know she has to. She’ll be able to handle it. He wants my sisters to testify.”

Comprehension dawned on Harry. There were few things more important to Louis than his siblings; in fact, nothing was. He had always been protective of them, especially because he wasn’t around all the time. Harry knew he tried to compensate for it when he was with them. 

“Why?”

“They think it will make a stronger case, I guess,” Louis’s face twisted. “I don’t want to put them through that. I don’t even want them to be there.”

Harry wished he had something he could say. Louis’s sisters’ faces, young and innocent, surfaced in his mind. He understood why Louis was so adamant about keeping them from the trial. Harry could see Louis wanted to stop talking about it. He moved toward him. Every muscle in his body was contracted, like he was ready to bolt at the slightest provocation. Harry touched his arm. 

“Lou, it’s going to be okay,” he said. “They’ll be alright.”

He looked in Harry’s eyes and Harry knew he didn’t believe him. 

The door opened behind them and he moved his hand away from his arm. Keith, their coworker, stopped dead when he realized they were there. 

“Oh,” he said awkwardly. “Sorry, didn’t know you guys were here.”

Louis brushed past Harry and walked back into the office. Harry nodded at Keith wordlessly, unable to come up with something he could say. He was sure Keith thought he’d interrupted something, and he sort of had, but not what Keith thought it was. 

Harry returned to his desk, trying to catch Louis’ eye when he sat down, but he refused to look up. 

  
  


As Harry packed up his bags, he looked to Louis’ desk again. Almost everyone had already gone home. Louis stared at his computer with his mouth set in a firm line. He appeared to be in deep concentration, but his fists were clenched on either side of his keyboard and his sight was fixed in one spot. Harry knew he was lost in thought. 

He walked over, hesitating, then placed his hand on his shoulder. Louis stiffened and eventually relaxed. 

“Louis,” Harry said quietly. 

He tilted his head toward Harry’s hand, looking at it against his shirt. 

“This is not all on you,” Harry said with force in his voice. “You don’t have all the responsibility. You are not to blame for your family being in this situation.” Louis finally looked up. Harry knew he was voicing his exact fears. “Give yourself a goddamn break.”

Louis broke into a smile against all odds, albeit a small one. His head bobbed and he looked back at his computer. Harry took his hand away and made for the door. 

“Harry.” He stopped and glanced back. “Thank you,” Louis said. 

  
  
  


Harry turned his key in the lock, letting himself into the apartment. It was quiet and the lights were turned off when he walked in. 

“Niall?” 

No answer. He walked over to his bedroom door and peered in, finding it empty. 

Harry’s belongings slipped to the floor in the dark as he made his way into the living room. He’d pick them up later. Without bothering to turn the lights on he sank down onto the couch and sat in silence. 

His heart thudded in his ears as he replayed the day in his mind. Louis’ face swam in front of his eyes; the weight of the situation was enough to break the best of them, and he could see Louis was struggling. But he wasn’t cracking. 

He wondered if Louis would go home or if he’d be staying with Liam again. He grabbed his phone, the screen light illuminating his lap. He typed a quick text. 

**hey, what are you doing?**

He sent it and waited, fingers fiddling with the couch cushion. His phone beeped and he looked at Liam’s answer. 

**just got home. what’s up?**

Harry couldn’t tell whether he was with Louis or not, but he didn’t want to stay home alone in the apartment. 

**wanna hang out?**

The three dots appeared right away. 

**sure! meet me at the bar around the corner from my place**

When Harry walked in he spotted Liam sitting on a stool in the far corner. He had a scotch in his hand and a pen in the other. 

“Hey,” Harry said, sitting down next to him. Then, gesturing to his drink, “Rough day?”

Liam shook his head. “No, they just have the sixteen-year here. And,” he added. “I did have a lot of people try to die on me today. So, it felt like a scotch kind of night.” He took a sip. “Did you want to meet for a particular reason?”

“No, I just miss you.” It was a partial lie, but it also wasn’t. He and Liam had always got on well and had ever since college. 

Liam gave him a knowing look. “Ah, gotcha. Needed a dose of Liam for your Friday night?”

Harry giggled. “Exactly.” Noticing the pen he kept flicking over his knuckle, Harry angled his head to see if he had something he’d written on. 

“What?”

“I was just wondering why you had a pen.”

“Oh,” Liam’s voice changed. “That. It’s nothing. I just gave someone my number.”

“Ah,” Harry said, his mood becoming teasing. “Cute?”

Liam wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Of course.”

“Your type?”

Liam laughed but he kept staring at the oak bar. “Since when do I have a type?”

Harry scoffed. “Since I’ve known you. Dark hair, cheekbones, pretty eyes,” he stopped when he noticed the bartender wiping the opposite counter with special rigor. Liam’s eyes followed him as he made his way into the back. “Good looking, maybe a couple tattoos, an earring or two,” Harry was describing the bartender exactly and wondering if Liam would notice. “In good shape, cute button nose, dimples,” Harry grinned from ear to ear watching Liam blush.

Liam ducked his head, trying to hide his pink face. 

“Oh my God, you’re totally vibing with the hot bartender,” Harry lowered his voice but couldn’t keep the squeal out of it. 

Liam shoved his arm, then glanced around to check if he’d come back. “He is hot, isn’t he?” he said shyly, like he wanted Harry to confirm. 

“Oh yeah, completely. He asked for your number?”

Liam’s mouth upturned. “Yeah. I wrote it on his hand.”

Harry pressed his hand to his mouth to keep any embarrassing noises from escaping. He had so much fun when Liam crushed on someone. “Will you go out with him? If he calls?” Harry couldn’t keep himself from asking. 

Liam squirmed. “I don’t know.” He peeked at Harry. “D’you think I should?”

“Yes!” Harry said it a little too loud. “Yes, you should.”

“Okay, maybe I will,” he said. “Sh, he’s coming back. Shut up and change the subject.” Harry suppressed his smile at Liam trying to play it cool. Remembering why he had initially wanted to meet, he decided it was a good opportunity to bring it up. 

“Did Louis stay with you a few nights ago?”

It took Liam a minute for his question to register; his gaze was fixed on the bartender’s ass. When Harry snapped his fingers a couple times he came to, though he had to repeat the question. “Oh, uh, yeah. The night of their engagement party. Something about their apartment being fumigated.”

Harry frowned, because he knew that was a lie. But knowing whether it was Liam or Louis who was lying was the question. “Hm.”

“Why?”

“I just wondered. He mentioned it, that’s all.” A lie on Harry’s part, as he had overheard that bit.

“Oh.” Liam’s eyes drifted again and his attention followed. 

Harry drummed his fingers on the counter, thinking. If Liam was lying, then he probably knew about the fight that Louis and Mick had. If he wasn’t, then he probably didn’t know and Louis wasn’t talking about it with anyone. Harry hoped that wasn’t true and that Liam was lying. 

“It looks really nice, doesn’t it?”

Liam sent him a confused glance. “What does?”

“His butt.”

“Oh my God, _shut up_!”

**_July 2018_ **

* * *

Music thumped loud in Harry’s ears as he made his way through a large crowd huddled together. It reminded Harry of the night at Temple months before and funnily enough, he was on his way to being tipsy again as he returned to his table at the back of the restaurant. 

“Why is it so crowded in here?” he asked, setting his drink down on the table. 

Noah smiled at him good-humoredly. “It’s a popular restaurant, love. It’s got four stars.”

Harry pulled a face. “Then why did we come here? We could have gone anywhere.”

Noah knitted his fingers together over the top of his drink tight enough that his knuckles turned white. Harry wanted to reach over and take one of them in his, but he stopped himself. “Well, I’m meeting your friends for the first time. I wanted it to be somewhere nice,” Noah said. His tone was wafty, as if his mind were elsewhere. Perhaps he was considering all the other possible options he could have gone with. 

“It’s fine, Noah. Promise,” Harry said, putting his hand on his thigh. Noah stared down at it there for a long moment.

“Harry!” Someone shouted his name over the bass drum and he turned to see Liam tugging Zayn along behind him. Harry jumped up to greet them, embracing Liam. 

“Hi Zayn,” he said when he let Liam go. Zayn’s hand went to the back of his neck, like he wasn’t sure what to do with it. Liam nudged him and he regained the power of speech. 

“Hi Harry.” Harry’s cheeks hurt from smiling as he offered them the seats across from him and Noah. 

Noah cleared his throat before addressing his friends. “Hey, I’m Noah.”

Liam reached across the table to shake his hand. “Hi Noah, I’m Liam and this is Zayn.” Zayn seemed to have lost his voice again. “I’ve been hearing a lot about you,” Liam shot a glance toward Harry, their early daylight conversations flooding back to Harry’s mind. 

“I’ve been hearing a lot about you, too. Harry’s lucky to have a friend like you.”

“He certainly is,” came Liam’s smug response. Harry would have pinched him had he been able to reach. “Nothing too inappropriate, I hope.” 

“Oh no, all good things,” Noah assured. His hand went to Harry’s and wrapped around it. “He says that the two of you met in college?”

“That we did. We were in an improv group together,” Liam’s smile widened as he caught his eye, humor dancing across his face. Harry tried subtly shaking his head, but Liam continued nonetheless. “Harry was the star.”

“No, I wasn’t,” he said. 

“Yes, you were. You won competitions.”

“One or two, that’s all. And _we_ won them, not just me.” He could remind Liam any time he wanted about the Banana Incident. Two could play the shame game.

“So how did you guys meet?” Noah mercifully interjected. A sigh of relief rushed from Harry’s lungs. 

Liam and Zayn played a little eye contact tag; Liam initiated, then looked down, Zayn caught it but couldn’t hold it for too long. “We met at Zayn’s bar. I gave him my number and he called me the next day,” Liam said. His cheeks went rosy as he spoke. 

“Oh you’re a bartender? At which bar?”

“I own it, actually. It’s called Somer’s. On Geary.”

Noah squinted. “I don’t think I’ve been to it. But now that I know the owner,” Noah gestured toward Zayn. “I might have to stop by.”

“It’s my favorite in the city. They have great scotch,” Harry said, sensing Zayn’s nerves. His mouth relaxed into a smile at Harry’s words, which he immediately returned. 

“Thanks Harry. And I have to say, if not for you, Liam and I may not have gotten together. I haven’t gotten a chance to thank you yet.”

Noah looked at Harry. “Oh, I didn’t really do anything. Just gave Liam a little push, that’s all,” Harry said. “He was really nervous. He thought you were super cute,” Harry lowered his voice like it was his best-kept secret. 

Liam looked like he wanted to pinch Harry, then. Or punch him. His eyes were wide. Zayn looked at him. “I didn’t know that. You were nervous?” Zayn’s eyes flicked from his date’s eyes to his lips, which were slightly parted in indignation toward Harry. Liam looked between Zayn and Harry. 

“Yeah,” Harry knew Liam said the word because his lips formed it, even though the sound didn’t reach him across the table. 

Zayn finally broke their stare, his face a deep shade of scarlet. “Excuse me a minute,” he said, standing up quickly. Liam watched him go until he disappeared through a wall of people. 

Noah shifted and pressed into Harry’s side for a moment. They exchanged glances and Harry tried to guess what he was thinking. Noah’s hand around his hadn’t moved. He rubbed his thumb against the skin just under his palm. Harry wondered if Noah had read his mind, instead. 

“Having fun?” he asked. 

Noah nodded, still stroking the pad of his thumb on his arm. “Yeah. Your friends are great.”

Harry shrugged humbly. “Well, I certainly think so.” He addressed Liam. “I hope I didn’t embarrass you _too much_ ,” he emphasized the last part because, as was customary in their friendship, there was the responsibility to impart at least some degree of embarrassment on the other. Especially in front of potential partners. 

Liam shook his head and Harry knew he would have flipped him off had they been in different company. “Enjoy it now, Styles.”

“I will, Payne.”

  
  


“Okay, would you rather be constantly damp or really dry for the rest of your life?” Their group had begun a game of Would You Rather after moving past introductions. 

Noah frowned next to him and Harry laughed. Zayn pursed his lips. “Well, how dry are we talking?”

“Sahara. Like that time you ran out of face moisturizer and you made me run to the market to get you some more,” Liam said. Zayn flushed and Liam seemed to realize what he had said, but pretended not to be fazed. “Well?” he asked, prompting them for their answers. 

“I think I’d choose dry. Being damp would remind me of Seattle too much,” Noah said. 

Harry turned to him in surprise. “You lived in Seattle?”

Noah raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, for two years.”

“I grew up in Seattle,” Harry said. 

“Oh, no way. You never told me that,” Noah said, a slight frown on his face. Harry guessed Noah might have been worried that he thought he insulted his hometown. He opened his mouth to say something else, but a voice over their shoulders turned their attention. Louis jogged up to them breathless, his shirt collar sticking up on one side. 

Harry got up and hugged him hello. Louis squeezed him back briefly and released him. “Where’s Mick?” Harry asked as quietly as he could. 

Louis glanced over to the three behind Harry before replying. “He couldn’t make it. Sorry that I’m late.”

“That’s okay. Your collar is crooked,” Harry said, pointing it out. Louis reached up and fixed it, then sat down in the seat on Harry’s other side. As he settled back in, Noah reached over and offered his hand to Louis. “Hi, I’m Noah, nice to meet you.”

Louis shook his outstretched hand. “Nice to meet you too. Louis Tomlinson.” He turned to face Liam and Zayn. “Good to see you again, Zayn. I hope Liam is treating you well.”

Zayn smiled. “Very.”

Louis nodded approvingly. “Keep it that way, huh?” Liam reached his arm around one of Zayn’s shoulders, an intimate gesture to which Zayn looked both surprised and pleased. From Harry’s seat he could see Liam stick his middle finger up at Louis, before resting it against Zayn’s arm. Louis broke into a shit-eating grin; Harry knew his words were payback for his engagement party.

“This place is pretty fancy, isn’t it?” Louis asked no one in particular. 

“My friend owns it,” Noah said, offering an explanation for why he had chosen it. 

Louis accepted his answer with a flick of his eyebrows and pulled his mouth to one side. Looking away, he surveyed the room of people talking and dancing. “What is it? A dance club? Restaurant? Both?”

“Kind of both,” Noah said. 

“Hm,” was all Louis said back. Noah shifted against Harry. “Harry said you’re a firefighter,” Louis addressed Noah again. 

“Oh, uh...yeah. Yes, I am.”

Louis’ eyes moved from Noah’s watch on his wrist that rested on the table back to his face. “Does it pay well?”

Noah’s face contorted in confusion. “Sorry?”

“Being a firefighter. Does it pay well?”

Noah sort of laughed, like he thought Louis was kidding. “Uh, it pays fine, I guess. Are you considering becoming one?” Harry sensed Noah’s level of discomfort rising. 

“No, just curious,” Louis said. He had a funny look on his face but he moved on. “Harry also said that you’re a great lay.” Harry choked on the water he had been drinking and almost spat it out all over his friends. Pressing a napkin to his mouth, he glanced at Louis again, who watched him with concern. Noah put his hand on his back, asking if he was okay. Harry nodded once he calmed down and finally stopped coughing. He looked at Louis. 

“What did you say?”

“I said you told me he lives right near the Bay,” Louis said, regarding him as if he had sprouted a second head. Harry felt his shoulders relax and he tried to shrug off the awkward moment. Noah patted his arm and he returned the gesture, gripping his right hand. 

The conversation progressed forward despite Harry’s hearing mistake. Liam and Louis talked about going to play basketball together the next day. Louis invited Zayn along and Zayn stammered a bashful acceptance. Harry hoped they would go easy on him. He had watched Louis play and he knew he was good, but more importantly, Harry knew he was competitive. 

“Noah, why don’t you come too?” Liam said suddenly. Noah’s head jerked upward, clearly startled after not having been spoken to in some time. He glanced at Harry for a second and Harry nodded a little. 

“Sure. Why not?”

“Well, if you suck, maybe that’s why not,” Louis interjected. All eyes snapped toward him and Harry felt rays of anger shooting from his. He signed _shut up_ as subtly as he could. “I’m kidding,” Louis said, trying to double back. 

Harry wouldn’t have been angry if he believed Louis had been kidding. But he knew his tones, his moods. He knew when Louis was actually kidding and he hadn’t been. He hadn’t treated Noah with kindness from the moment he’d laid eyes on him and Harry had no idea why. 

As calmly as possible, Harry said, “Louis, will you come get some more drinks with me?”

He disentangled his and Noah’s arms, telling him he’d be right back. He shot a look at Louis that meant to follow and not say a word. Louis walked behind him as he approached the bar, but once of sight of the table Harry kept walking until he reached the exit. 

They emerged into an alley that lined the building of the restaurant and the one directly adjacent. He waited until Louis let the door close before he opened his mouth. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

Louis tried to play dumb. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, come on. Don’t pull that shit with me. We both know what I’m talking about. You’ve been an ass to Noah since you got here. What is your problem with him?”

“I don’t have a problem with him!”

“Yes you do! Or you’re just an asshole, and I know you're not an asshole. So out with it, why are acting that way?”

Louis brushed his hand through his hair, letting it fall back onto his forehead in one sweep. His mouth dragged down and his eyebrows pinched together, sort of guilty, like a high school kid caught throwing pieces of paper at another student in class. “I’m sorry.”

Harry felt his resolve soften, even though he wanted to stay angry. “You’re lucky Noah is a nice guy and probably didn’t take everything you said as an insult.”

The flash of Louis’ eyes told Harry he hoped Noah actually had taken offense. “Why are you being so weird?” Harry asked again, more gently, so that Louis might tell him. 

Louis sighed, turning his body so that he wasn’t facing toward Harry. He scuffed the top of his shoe against the pavement. “I don’t know. I’m sorry,” he paused. “Mick and I have been fighting a lot and we had just had one before I came. That’s why I was late and he stayed home.”

“Is everything okay?”

Louis’ face said it all. “Of course, it’s fine. We’re just stressed. I’m dealing with all of my family stuff and he’s trying to find a more stable job and we’re planning the wedding…” He trailed off. “Anyway, I’m sorry. I showed up in a bad mood and I probably just shouldn’t have come at all. Maybe I should just go.”

“No, I want you here. Please stop being a jerk to him, though,” Harry said, just shy of pleading with him. “He was really nervous about meeting you guys.”

“I’m sure,” Louis said, sarcastic edge to his voice, before catching himself. “I’m sorry,” he shut his eyes. “I’m sorry, I promise I’ll stop.”

Harry stared at him for a long moment. “Okay. As long as you promise.”

“I promise,” Louis said, staring back at him. Harry believed him that time and walked toward the door, indicating for Louis to come with him. They walked back to the bar, ordering drinks for everyone and returning to the table as if nothing had happened. 

  
  
  


**. . .**

  
  


“I haven’t played basketball since high school. I don’t know why I said yes to this,” Noah said through the phone the next day. Harry cradled his cell between his ear and shoulder because he was making coffee. “What do I wear?”

Harry laughed. “Shorts and a t-shirt.”

“Right, yeah. Duh.”

“You’ll be fine. Honestly, Liam and Louis will probably spend the whole time trying to one-up each other anyway. Just lay low and do what you can.” 

Noah blew out a breath. “Okay. You’re right,” he said. After a moment, “I don’t think Louis liked me very much.”

 _Dammit._ “What? No, he liked you.”

“Really? Did he say that? Because I sort of got the sense that he didn’t.”

“He was just having an off night. He liked you, I swear.”

Noah made a disbelieving noise. “If you say so. It was just sort of weird when he asked about how much I make...didn’t you think that was weird?”

Harry had almost forgotten that. “Uh, well…” He tried to stall because he had no idea what to say. “Look, what if I come for a little bit? I can watch.”

“You want to?”

Harry pictured Noah dressed in the shorts and t-shirt and running around on a basketball court. “Of course.”

“Okay. We’re meeting in half an hour. I’ll see you there.” He hung up and Harry set his phone down on the counter, staring at it for a long time. His hand rested on the coffee bean grinder as he replayed their conversation over again in his head. Finally, he checked the time and went to change. 

  
  


Harry walked up to the basketball court at half past nine in the morning. His fingers found the latch on the gate and he walked inside, surveying the green paint on the ground. Voices from the opposite side drew his attention. Liam and Zayn were standing nearest together, their hands dangling behind their backs so that every chance they got they could brush them against the other’s. Across from them, Louis removed his sweatshirt, depositing it on top of his duffel bag, completely oblivious to the affection the two were showing when they thought no one could see. 

“Hey guys,” Harry said, letting his presence be known. They all turned around. 

“Hey Harry,” Liam said. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

Harry shrugged. “Well, I thought you could use an audience, since this turned into a two-on-two.”

Louis shook his head. “Just keep the trash talk to a minimum, alright?”

“I make no such promises.”

  
  


Louis bounced the ball back and forth between his legs. “Okay, let’s pair up. Liam, you wanna be a team?”

Liam glanced between his boyfriend and best friend a few times. “Um, I think Zayn and I were gonna…”

Louis tried to keep the disappointed expression off his face. “Oh yeah, right. No problem,” he said. “Okay, Noah. Looks like it’s you and me.”

Noah got up from sitting next to Harry, heading over to Louis. He turned back for a second, widening his eyes and mouthing, _Save me!_ Harry tried his best not to smile. Louis and Noah linked arms and did the little man handshake that Harry had seen other guys do, although it was very awkward when they did it. Harry looked down. 

Louis and Noah started, Noah passed the ball to Louis and Louis ran up the court doing a layup. He swished the ball into Liam and Zayn’s net with ease. He jogged back to Noah with a triumphant smirk on his face. 

“One-nothing.”

“Obviously, we just started playing,” Liam said, clearly irritated. Louis tossed him the ball and Zayn pushed his way up the court, waiting for Liam to pass it. Noah blocked him as Liam ran past Louis and beelined his way to the basket, and in it went. 

They all made their way back, Louis’ smirk gone. 

“Why didn’t you pass it?” Harry heard Zayn ask. 

“You weren’t open, Noah was all over you,” Liam said. 

Harry could tell Zayn was a little hurt, but he shrugged it off. They continued that way for a long time, deadlocked. Neither could pull ahead. Louis’ frustration mounted as the sweat on his forehead collected. He called a timeout. He and Noah went to one corner and spoke in low voices. Liam and Zayn walked toward where Harry was sitting, grabbing their waters. 

“Can you pass it to me at least once?” Zayn asked. 

“I have,” Liam said. 

“No, you haven’t,” Zayn said. “Have you noticed that Noah and I have barely touched the ball at all?” As Harry had predicted, it was a flexing contest between Liam and Louis, and Zayn had picked up on it, too. “I’m capable of playing.”

Liam put his water down. “Okay, yeah. I’m sorry.” He touched Zayn’s hand. Zayn let him until Noah and Louis announced they were ready. They resumed their positions and Noah tossed the ball to Louis. Liam ran and knocked it out of his hand, then Zayn sprinted in front of Noah before he could block him. As promised, Liam passed it to Zayn, who turned and took it up the court. Noah was on him but Zayn elbowed him out of the way, jumping and dunking the ball in the basket. 

“Time out,” Louis called, seeing Noah on the ground. He was holding his nose. Harry stood up. 

“Holy shit,” Liam said, looking at Zayn as if he was seeing him for the first time. “That was…” he trailed off, like he wasn’t even sure what word he was searching for. 

Zayn was gloating. “I went to college on a basketball scholarship,” he said. Then, innocently, he added, “Didn’t you know that?”

Liam’s eyes got even bigger. 

“God, that was so hot,” Liam finally said. Harry walked past their little moment and over to Noah, who had blood dripping down his face. 

“Are you okay?” Harry asked, bending down next to him. 

Before he could answer, Louis handed him a towel. “He’s fine. It’s just a little nosebleed. Here, press this against it and tip your head back.”

Noah’s eyes flickered to Louis, a hint of resent there. “Yeah, I’m an EMT. I know what to do.” Louis held his hands up in surrender and stood back up. He walked away, leaving Harry and Noah alone. 

“Are you okay?” Harry asked again. 

Noah moved the towel, now stained red. “Yes, it’s nothing. Just a bit of blood. His elbow got me.”

“I saw.”

“Didn’t know he had it in him, honestly.”

Harry smiled. “I did.”

Noah looked at him strangely. “You knew he could almost break my nose?”

“It’s not broken, you said it was nothing.”

“It is,” Noah said. 

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Noah reached his hand out and Harry helped him to his feet. 

“Will you be alright? Should we end the game?”

He touched the towel to his face again. “No, I’m good. Let’s play.” They walked a few steps before realizing that Liam and Zayn were liplocked in the middle of the basketball court. Harry put a hand over his mouth to stifle his laugh. Noah staggered to a stop. 

Harry felt eyes on the side of his head, and he looked over at Louis and Louis looked over at him and they both smiled the same smile at the same moment. Harry felt tears gather in his eyes as he smiled back at Louis, but then he blinked and looked away. 

“I don’t think you’re going to win the game that way,” Louis said at last. Liam and Zayn broke apart, breathless and grinning from ear to ear. Liam gripped Zayn’s shoulders in his hands like he was afraid if he let go Zayn would float away. 

“Right, okay.” he said. “Right, okay. Okay.” Liam said the words but it was clear his brain wasn’t functioning. Zayn laughed and touched his left hand to his lips, his whole face a light shade of pink. “Right, okay. Right.”

“Whose ball?” Zayn finally asked, still starry-eyed. 

“Ours,” Louis said. 

Harry sat back down on the bench to watch them finish the game. He hoped no more blood would be spilled, but as he watched Louis bound up the court once again, he knew he too would make no promises. 

  
  


“Never again,” Noah said. He laced up his sneakers which had come untied sometime in the duration of their game. His head dribbled sweat on the ground. “I will not be playing ball with you again anytime soon.”

Louis’ smirk returned. “No problem. But not for nothing, you were actually decent.” He reached out for a shake. Noah stared at his hand for a second, then relented, tightening his fingers around Louis’. 

“You too,” Noah said. “But I’m sure you knew that.”

Louis chuckled. “Put some ice on that nose.”

“Yep,” Noah said as Louis jogged away, retrieving his belongings. Noah had his arms braced on his knees and he turned his head toward Harry, where he sat just a few inches away. “Ready to go?”

“Where are we going?”

“I thought we could get something to eat?”

Harry checked his watch. It was after eleven, already. “Sure. My apartment isn’t far from here. We could eat there.” Harry settled into silence when he saw the expression on Noah’s face. He looked a little hesitant, as if he couldn’t make up his mind how to respond. “What?” 

“Nothing,” Noah said. “It’s just...I’ve never been to your place before.”

 _Oh._ “Well, we don’t have to….”

“No!” Noah said quickly. “No I want to. I just didn't expect you to invite me. That’s all.”

Harry nodded. “I know. We’ve been taking things slow.”

“Which has been amazing,” Noah said. 

“But we’ve been on what? Ten dates?”

“Twelve,” Noah said. Harry’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, he hadn’t realized Noah had been counting. 

“Okay, twelve dates,” Harry said. “And you’ve met my friends. And survived a basketball game with them. And you’d be surprised how many don’t make it through the basketball game.”

“Many?” Noah asked.

“Oh no, I didn’t mean—” Harry stuttered, trying to correct his stupid joke. “I was kidding. You’re the first boyfriend to ever play basketball with my friends.”

Noah’s eyes went wide. “Boyfriend?”

 _Shit._ “I mean...um…”

“I’m your boyfriend?”

“Oh, boy, I’m saying a lot of things,” Harry balled his hands into fists and stood up. “You know what, just forget I said anything. I’m going to head home and I’ll see you later, okay?” He spun on his heel and made to walk away, but before he could Noah grabbed his elbow so he had no choice but to turn back around. 

“No, Harry, please don’t leave.” Noah let out a breath. “I want to be your boyfriend.”

Harry’s heart kicked up its speed. “You do?”

“Are you kidding?” Noah rested his hands on Harry’s waist and pulled him closer so he could press their foreheads together. “I would love nothing more.” 

“I’m sorry I’m an idiot,” Harry said into his shoulder. 

“Hey,” Noah cupped his cheeks so that Harry had to look at him. “We can be idiots together, okay?”

Harry smiled. “Deal.”

Noah leaned in to kiss him to seal it. 

  
  


“Six were killed yesterday when a man opened fire in a restaurant downtown,” the news anchor on the television fixed to the wall spoke into her microphone. She was standing on the corner of the street where it had happened. “The suspect has yet to be identified and is an ongoing investigation. If you have any information, please call the number on the bottom of the screen.”

The office was deathly quiet; everyone had stopped their work to watch the broadcast. Even when the regularly scheduled programming resumed, they stayed motionless. 

“Ten blocks away.”

Harry looked over at the person who had spoken. Keith, his eyes burning, repeated it. “Ten blocks from here. That is just…”

“I know,” he said. He had no other words. 

Across the room, Arthur opened his office door. He stood in the opening for a moment while they all waited. 

“Alright everyone. I understand that there’s been a tragedy, but let’s try and get back to work, okay? We can’t stop everytime something happens.” No one said a word in response, but the anger that collectively vibrated the room assured Harry he was not alone. He turned toward his computer with his fingers frozen over the keys. 

He felt eyes on the side of his face and realized Arthur was standing above him. He spun his chair to meet his eyes. 

“Harry,” he said. 

“Yes, Arthur?”

“How is your project going?”

“Great. We’ve covered four marches since starting production. We have the tentative outline that we submitted to you in February and we’re working on a more concrete proposal,” he said. 

He put one hand on his hip and let the other fall onto my desk. “Okay. And the direction it’s going?”

Confused by his question, Harry frowned. “Well, I’m not sure if we’ll know for a little while yet…”

He cut Harry off. “I want to have a few more people join your team. I think this is important to streamline and you’ll need more manpower to do it,” he said. He snapped his fingers at Louis, seated at his desk. “Tomlinson, I want you on Harry’s doc. You too, Holland.” Arthur got Keith’s attention. “Let’s set up a meeting early next week. In the meantime, perhaps sending you and a film crew downtown is a good opportunity for some more footage.”

“Downtown?” Louis demanded. “To the shooting?”

Arthur eyed him. “Yes. Is that a problem?”

“The shooter wasn’t caught, so yeah, a problem. It’s not safe.”

“They have police covering every inch of that place. He won’t come back twice. It’s likely safer than your home at the moment,” Arthur said. His hard-set jaw dared Louis to challenge him. “It doesn’t have to be hours long, but perhaps a few people would be willing to give interviews.”

Arthur walked away, taking any opportunity Louis had to protest with him. 

“Do we get bulletproof vests at least?” Keith said as they rode in the car toward downtown. He meant it as a joke but it fell flat. 

Louis stared straight ahead. Harry nudged his elbow against his side. “You okay?”

“What?” he fidgeted. “No, I’m fine.”

Harry knew he was lying, but he didn’t say anything else as they were in mixed company and if he had pushed he would have gotten angry. Angrier than he already was, at least. The car stopped on the same corner they had watched the broadcast from only an hour before and they unloaded their film equipment. Harry couldn’t help but feel terribly guilty as he did. 

Shawn had already switched into directing mode. He barked orders at Keith and Louis, who moved as if they were walking through water. They both obliged, however, and did as he asked. 

“What do you want to do?” he asked Harry. He had avoided looking around up until this point, in fear of what he would see. Every eye suddenly focused on him. He set down the boom mic he was holding and allowed himself to survey their surroundings. 

The restaurant resembled a surgical patient; like it had been split apart and hadn’t been sewn back up yet. The red and blue lights from the police cars danced off the glass in the windows. Inside, he could see them milling around. If he let his eyes blur he could trick himself into thinking that it was just an ordinary day and the cops were customers and nothing horrible had happened. 

Harry glanced to his left and noticed a woman speaking with a police officer. Her hands were clasped and held against her chest tightly as if to keep anything from getting in or out. The officer touched her arm lightly as they spoke. 

“I think that might be the restaurant owner,” Harry said to Shawn. He followed his gaze, watching too. 

“Should we talk to her?” he asked. 

Harry hesitated. The woman’s eyes were rimmed with red, but it was inside them that struck him. He recognized the pain and fear and wasn’t sure if he could bring himself to get any closer to it. “I don’t know.”

Shawn didn’t respond, calculating. Once the police officer went back into the restaurant he started toward the woman. “Wait here.”

Harry side-stepped nearer to Louis as he watched him approach. Louis’ sight was glued to the pair as Shawn walked right up to her. She acknowledged Shawn’s presence and a moment later they shook hands. 

“Are you okay?” Harry asked Louis without looking at him. 

The woman’s face was filled with confusion as Shawn gestured back toward the group, who were all immediately caught staring. None of them made a move. 

“No, I’m not,” he said. 

“I keep thinking about it,” Harry said. 

“Me too,” Louis shuffled his feet. “I haven’t had flashbacks in awhile but since we saw the broadcast…I can’t help it.”

His hand twitched at his side. Harry didn't think he was even aware he was doing it. He wasn’t going to, but then Harry reached down and wrapped his hand around Louis’. He looked at Harry in surprise. 

The woman was shaking her head. 

“Do you still get nightmares?” Harry asked. 

Louis’ hand around his tightened. A few seconds went by. “Yeah. Sometimes. Not always.”

“Me too,” he said. 

The woman said something and she was clearly adamant. Shawn nodded several times and came back to where we were standing. He let go of Louis’ hand. 

“You were right, she is the owner. She agreed to an interview,” Shawn said to Harry. “On the condition that you have to promise this gets out there. She wants it to make an impact.”

Harry could see Louis’ head moving up and down out of the corner of his eye and his chest swelled. “Absolutely. Let’s get her the release form. Keith, mic her.” He was ready for action. “Oh, what’s her name?”

“Mary Reed.”

The street was so silent that they could have heard a pin drop. No one in the crew made a noise; of course out of respect for the interview, but it was more than that. It was out of respect for their fallen. 

Mary was seated against the exterior wall of her restaurant. Harry asked her questions that had nothing to do with the shooting so that he had the proper information about her restaurant. She had opened it twenty years prior, just after her marriage failed. “It was my sanctuary,” she told them. 

“Now Mary, can you tell us about what happened yesterday?” He had prepared himself for this question. Even still, it was hard to get out. 

She heaved a breath. “I was at the restaurant overseeing everything. I’m still very hands-on. I am here nearly every day,” she said. “Well, I was back in the kitchen with my chef and were talking about...something, I don’t remember what. And then we heard shouting coming from the dining room. By the time I made it through the door there was gunfire and someone pushed me down behind the counter.” She stopped talking, tears rolling down her cheeks. “I was stuck under there for what felt like hours. I could hear people being shot.” She began crying harder and Harry flicked his hand to indicate for Keith to stop rolling the camera. 

Mary raised her head, her features contorted from crying. “No, don’t.”

His palm froze where it was, halfway through the cutting motion across his neck. By the misunderstanding on his face she realized she needed to explain. 

“Don’t stop filming. I want this all in my interview,” she sniffed, wiping her eyes. “This is the truth.”

Harry felt the moisture rising behind his eyes but nodded and lowered his hand. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“I was still behind the counter when my chef was shot. I wanted to help him, he was just feet away. I watched him die,” she could barely speak. “I watched him die and it was the worst moment of my life. So, I decided I would never let that happen again. To me or anyone else.” She faced the camera head-on. “To anyone out there listening, things need to change. We cannot continue on this way, with tragedies like this becoming normal. They are not normal. They are not caused by mental illness. They are caused by a lack of protection from the people who make our laws and people who then have easy access to weapons. We need to make a change. If they won’t do it, we have to.”

Harry’s heart was beating out of his chest at her words. He could hear the screams in the back of his mind; sounds that had haunted him for years. 

“We have to change it now.”

“Here.” A tissue was thrust in front of Harry’s face as he hid behind their van, trying not to sob.

He wiped his eyes and nose and stared down at his hands clasped together. 

“I’m sorry you had to come today,” he said quietly. It was his fault that Arthur had forced him along on the trip and he knew what it would do to Louis. He _suspected_ what it would do. 

Louis turned his head toward Harry. “Shut up.”

“What?”

“Just shut up. You know I would’ve come even if he hadn't told me to, don’t you? I would not have let you come here alone.”

Harry’s mouth fell slightly open and it took him a second to remember how to close it. “You would?”

“Of course I would,” he said, as if it was so obvious and Harry was the most oblivious person he had ever met. 

He sat down next to Harry, draping his arms over his knees. He went quiet again as his gaze fixated on the door of the restaurant that had been left ajar by the police. 

“Do you really still get nightmares?”

“Yeah...I really do.”

Harry picked one of his fingernails. “So, uh, Noah asked me to be his boyfriend. Well, I guess I kind of asked him to be my boyfriend first? But then he asked me…” Harry trailed off. “After the game the other day.” He realized how high-school he sounded as soon as the words left his mouth. 

Louis smiled. “I’m happy for you. Just let me know if he steps out of line, okay? I’ll beat him up for you.”

“He’s a firefighter.”

“So? I can take him.”

Harry laughed, not because it was particularly funny, but because he was making jokes again and for some reason it felt like it had been a long time since they had laughed together. So he did laugh, because he wanted to, even though it was not in an appropriate place at an appropriate time. And even though it was not an appropriate place or an appropriate time, Louis laughed too. 

It was the first time it felt like they were normal again.


End file.
